


Wrap you up

by ILoveFANFic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time Having Sex, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Castiel, Dean is actually good at communicating in this fic, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Ellen Harvelle and Bobby Singer are Dean Winchester's Parents, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Homeless Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, More comfort than hurt, Mutual Pining, Openly Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Openly Gay Dean Winchester, POV Alternating, POV Castiel (Supernatural), POV Dean Winchester, Possessive Castiel (Supernatural), Referenced Masturbation, Sammy and Dean have been adopted, Second Chances, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Strangers to Friends, Top Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22578493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILoveFANFic/pseuds/ILoveFANFic
Summary: Dean’s finally come to the conclusion that his life will benefit from him getting rid of the old to make room for the new. He starts by donating a bunch of things to charity, only to see one of the blankets he’s donated wrapped around someone sleeping in the street a couple of days later. He can’t know that, when he approaches the cocoon lying on the sidewalk that first time, but giving away his old blanket has started a sequence of events that will bring into his life all the new he could hope for, starting with the man sleeping under it.Castiel's lost everything. He’s homeless, living in the street and determined to keep going until he won’t be able to go on any longer. And then, he’ll see. For now, he finds solace in the little things, desperate for any scrap of hope that might come his way. Like the blanket he got from the shelter, with the ugliest dog face that ever existed, complete with flapping ears, that has made him smile for the first time in weeks. He couldn't have possibly known, when he chose that particular blanket out of those available, that that choice had started a sequence of events that will bring into his life all the hope he was looking for, starting with the man who sewed and donated it.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 350
Kudos: 835





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first chaptered fic, and my first fic in the present tense, so I'm both nervous and excited to be posting it. The work (10 chapters + epilogue) is finished and will be posted once a week, with the exception of Ch. 10 and the epilogue, which will be posted together. 
> 
> This story is very, very dear to me and I'm really happy to be sharing it with you. Ultimately, it’s a story about hope and second chances. About facing our fears and insecurities and getting back up in spite of everything. I really hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as I loved writing it. As usual, please feel free to share your thoughts, I love it when you guys do that :-)

Dean Winchester Singer is a sentimental guy. He’d never admit it out loud and will always deny it when called out on it. But he totally is. And he’s a nester and a hoarder. Having grown up with next to nothing, it doesn’t take a Master’s in psychology to realize that is the source of his nesting and hoarding instincts. He needs a place and things he can call his own. He still lives in the first apartment he was ever able to rent, once he landed a steady position as a mechanic at his adoptive father’s auto shop. He could have moved any time in the years between then and now, but he’s never wanted to. The apartment is _his_. And he has populated it with every kind of shit over time. Knick knacks without any kind of function, or stuff he scarcely ever uses or even looks at. But if things have even a lick of sentimental value for him, he keeps them.

Lately, he’s been feeling like he needs to finally let go of the past though. He even happened to scan through – he absolutely does _not_ usually read stuff like that – one of the hippie/for positive thinkers and yoga lovers/new age magazines lying around his brother and sister-in-law’s place and was slapped in the face by one of the articles. A piece about how clinging to material things, even though we never use them, is actually damaging for our psyche. Because it strengthens the idea that we might need them in the future and, implicitly, that our future will be lacking and we’ll want for something. The article suggested to get rid of what we don’t need or use, make room for new things and let go of the past and, in so doing, give the future the benefit of the doubt rather than believing we “might need something.”

Dean wouldn’t say that was him. Except it totally was.

So when the stream of Christmas presents was finally over and he realized most of the new presents could substitute old things he barely ever used, he made a revolutionary decision. He decided to donate to charity some of the things he wouldn’t use anymore, or that he had stored away with the tags still on.

He decided that, for the first time in his life, he was in a position in which he could – should – finally have faith in the future and could really hope that he wouldn’t want for anything.

Plus, he reasoned, winter was coming, and it was wrong that stuff got put aside in his house for emotional reasons, or on a ‘what if’ basis, when there were people out there who could use those things, starting with his blankets. Those blankets could literally mean the difference between life and death for some of the people living in the streets.

Leaving the building after dropping off the boxes with his donations, he kinda expected to feel regret and loss. What he felt was a sense of liberation. So Dean did what he always does when realizing a right decision was made. He smiled to himself, basked in the feeling of ‘right’ for a moment, and then went back to living his life without fanfare.

He’s all but forgotten about it a few days later when, walking back home from work, he sees a cocoon lying on the sidewalk wrapped up in one of his blankets, a shock of black hair the only visible thing.

That stops him dead in his tracks alright.

Dean has a moment to think that he’s being crazy and seeing things that aren’t really there, but no, that is definitely his blanket. Quite unlikely there could be another one in the world, considering _he_ had made that one from scratch. A blue fleece blanket, with an embroidered ugly dog face – the poor canine has one eye higher than the other and its whiskers are weird looking too. That ugly, ugly face is even complemented by a sewed pair of flapping ears Dean had knitted himself. He had made that blanket the one time Charlie convinced him taking a knitting course together would strengthen their friendship, so they could get “even more tight-knitted” than before – a pun Dean will _never_ let her live down. He had actually debated donating that particular blanket because he was _really_ sentimentally attached to it, in spite of how awful it had turned out to be. It was linked to one of the most important people in his life and he couldn’t help smiling whenever he thought about that damn pun. Places and things aren’t his most valuable possessions. People are. When he gets close to someone and ends up loving them and they love him back and they stick around, anything related to those people starts meaning the world to him. Those people mean the world to him. They _are_ his world. That is true for his friend Charlie, for his brother Sammy and his sis-in-law Jess, for his adoptive dad Bobby and his adoptive mom Ellen, and their daughter turned little sister Jo.

In the end, he had reasoned, his relationship with Charlie _was_ as tight-knitted as ever, and keeping the blanket wouldn’t make it any tighter, just like donating it wouldn’t make it any less tight. So, either he started using the blanket around the house, which he had no intention of doing because it truly was a thing of nightmares – Dean, being a mechanic, was generally good with his hands, but, alas, a fine knitter he was not – or he gave it away in the hope that it would keep warm someone who might need it.

Apparently, he’s made the right decision, considering what he’s seeing now. Dean knows that he should do what he always does when he realizes a right decision was made. He should smile to himself, take a moment to appreciate that at least one of the things he donated seems to be helping someone, wish them all the best and keep walking, going back to living his life without fanfare.

But when he hears a chesty cough that seems to go on forever, the choice is made for him.

“Hey man, how about some dinner?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and the homeless man wrapped in his blanket speak for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the love so far! Every kudos and comment warmed my heart, you're all amazing!! 
> 
> Please enjoy chapter 2 and, when you'll get confused, because you will, remember this: I didn't forget to tag anything, everything is absolutely deliberate and will become clear soon enough :-D

Dean's assumed the person under the blanket is a man because of how big they look, in spite of being curled in on themselves, no doubt in the attempt to retain as much body warmth as possible. He gets his confirmation when the man lifts his head just a bit to look behind himself and a frowny pair of blue eyes starts scrutinizing Dean.

“Come again?”

That’s a deep voice if Dean’s ever heard one. But the man has been coughing up a storm for the last couple of minutes, so that has probably something to do with it.

“Some dinner?”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“What do you want in return?”

“What? Nothing, of course.”

“You mean you’d just buy me dinner without expecting anything? Not even a blowjob?”

“What?! No! No, that’s not-.”

“It’s not like it’d be the first time someone proposes a similar arrangement.”

Oh God. No, that can’t be, right? People wouldn’t stoop so low, would they? Dean knows, he _knows_ , that he doesn’t really want to hear the answer. Yet his mouth cannot help asking the question.

“You... Jesus, you’re serious, aren’t you?”

The man’s shrug and the matter of fact tone he’s used so far are answers enough, but Dean’s still not ready for the words that come next.

“Some turn to homeless people to have sex acts performed for half the price they’d pay respectable hookers. In my case, my cocksucker lips would apparently be enough to forget about the homeless thing for 5 minutes. But only if I swallow, of course.”

That’s-. Some people are disgusting. How can they even _think_ of taking advantage of struggling fellow humans like that?!

Dean’s horrified expression must speak volumes, because the man seems to relax a fraction, and Dean takes the opportunity to try again.

“Look, that was my blanket.”

“Your bl-? This is one of the blankets they handed out at the shelter, they said they had been donated... You, uhm, want it back?”

“What? No! God.” Dean can only run a hand over his face, curse his genetic inability to communicate, sigh and try again. “I’m coming across like an idiot, aren’t I? OK, look, I embroidered, sewed and knitted that fucking blanket, flapping ears included. It was a million years ago and it was because my best friend practically forced me to. And I always kept it, sentimental value and all. Until I donated it, only to see it wrapped around you a couple of days later. It’s like a sign, man, I couldn’t just ignore you.”

“But you’d have, if not for your blanket. You’d have ignored me. Everyone always does.”

The metaphorical slap hits Dean square in the face, full force too, so he doesn’t even consider replying with the usual platitudes.

“You know what? Probably. I’d probably have. But I did see you, and I can’t unsee you now. So, how about that dinner?”

Honesty is clearly the way with this man, because he seems to be seriously pondering the question for the first time.

“I can’t... If I move now, I will lose this spot. It’s gonna be windy tonight. And this place is pretty sheltered, so.”

God. Dean couldn’t even begin to imagine living like that. How strong is this man, and everyone else who find themselves living like that and yet keep going?

“Right. Ok, uhm, I can go grab something and bring it back here?”

The scrutiny Dean’s been subjected to ever since what is by far the most surreal conversation of his life has started turns into an x-ray at this point. “You really don’t expect anything?”

“I don’t, I swear.” Dean adds his best ‘I don’t have ill intentions please believe me’ smile for good measure, regretting for a moment Sammy isn’t with him, because then they could put his brother’s award-deserving puppy dog eyes to good use for once, instead of only ever having them used against himself to be bullied into “talking and being open with your feelings, Dean.”

“Anything you’d like in particular?”

That catches the man off guard, the widening of his eyes the first of his reactions that hasn’t been carefully controlled so far. Dean supposes this man hasn’t had anybody asking for his wants and needs in a long, long time.

“Honestly, I’ll eat anything. But... Maybe some tea? If possible? Or, you know, just something warm.”

Dean didn’t know that you can physically feel your heart breaking for someone else. He does now.

“Sure. Some food and one tea coming up.”

“Thank you, really,” the man replies, looking at Dean between disbelieving and hopeful. He _doesn’t want_ to believe this might be true, Dean can see that in his eyes. Believing leaves your flank exposed. You hope if you believe. And the disappointment burns so much more if you’ve dared hope for something that you don’t end up getting.

Seeing how this man is afraid to let himself hope he could have even something as small as a warm drink is making Dean feel sick, so he just smiles tightly in response and starts walking.

As he’s making his way back, he can’t help but tell himself he might have gone a _little_ overboard. He’s bringing the man a burger and fries, hot tea he got from a 24/7 open diner he found along the way and a bottle of water, in addition to some over the counter cough medicine and Kleenex tissues he stopped to buy at the convenience store next to the burger joint. He’s no doctor, but that was a pretty bad cough and this stuff can only do the man good.

His face when he sees Dean coming back, boxes and bags in hand, is priceless. Dean thinks he also spotted a hint of a smile, but he can’t be sure.

“You’re back.”

“Told ya I would.”

“Yeah, well.” The ‘I’m in no position to believe in promises’ remains unspoken. Dean hears it loud and clear anyway.

“So, here’s your dinner - burger, fries and water. The hot tea, there’s sugar in the bag too. And, uhm, I also got you these. I-. I couldn’t help but hearing you cough earlier. Figured you must be dealing with a cold and this stuff might help.”

Dean’s there, Kleenex box still in hand, looking at a man who’s looking at him as if he had grown a second, third and fourth head, and each of them was wearing a hat uglier than those worn at a fancy party by the British nobility.

“All of this for me. For free.”

“Yes.....?” Leaving his words hanging in the air is usually indication enough that he’d like for the other person to tell him their name. Not this time. Either the man hasn’t got the hint – totally possible, considering he’s currently busy surveying the food in his hands as if it might explode – or Dean’s the only one who gives stuff for free here. Then again, he’s also the only one who’s in a position to do so.

“That’s, um. I don’t know what to say. Just-,” the man’s words are interrupted by a small chuckle and a beautiful smile that reaches as far as the man’s eyes. Eyes – blue, blue eyes – that are now fixed on Dean, happy and honest. “Thank you.”

“No problem.....?”

There goes nothing.

The man is busy unwrapping his burger and nothing else seems to matter. Dean’s gonna have to ask outright.

“Can you tell me your name?”

The man swallows down his bite with water before clarifying, “My name?”

“Yes, your name. I can keep calling you ‘man’, if you’d rather. It’d been less awkward if I knew what to call you though, that’s all.”

The man ponders that for a few moments before replying “Jimmy” between a fry and the other, never stopping his chewing for too long. God, he must have been starving.

“Jimmy.” Dean can’t help but smile. Such a simple name, for a man that is clearly, by nature or nurture, anything but. And it might seem like a small thing to most, someone telling them their name. But this man, Jimmy, is clearly very guarded, and this little show of trust, however small, feels huge to Dean. The feeling of ‘right’ that’s been simmering inside of Dean ever since he first addressed Jimmy intensifies.

“So, Jimmy, can I ask what made you choose this blanket? I mean, it’s fucking ugly.”

Dean chuckles and Jimmy huffs a small laugh, the first clear sign of amusement he offers.

“Those in line before me left it because it looked too thin, but I thought that it was pretty warm anyway, and I was right. And the flapping ears made me smile, which, you know, doesn’t happen often anymore, so.”

Dean decided to add those damn ears just to irk Charlie, as payback for emotionally blackmailing him into attending those classes. He makes a mental note to buy Charlie a beer, possibly a fruit basket too, soon.

“Never thought something I failed at so miserably could put a smile on someone’s face. But I’m more than glad that it did.”

The smile Jimmy gives him this time is unmistakable. “Yeah, me too.”

They spend a few seconds just smiling and looking at each other, until Dean realizes the moment is stretching on for too long and is starting to feel a bit awkward.

“Ok, so, I gotta get going now. But, um, do you, I mean, you think you’re gonna be around here again?” The wariness and suspicion appear on Jimmy’s face in a nanosecond, so Dean hastens to clarify. “I, well,” he’s gonna have to be honest and make an ass of himself if he doesn’t want Jimmy to take him for a stalker, isn’t he? “I _might_ have gained a few pounds lately and decided to start walking to and back from work for a little while rather than taking my car. So I’m gonna pass by this spot at least twice a day in the next few weeks. And, I mean, if you’re here, or, you know, around here, I wouldn’t mind stopping by to say hi. Chat a bit.”

Jimmy doesn’t seem 100% convinced, but he doesn’t seem ready to pounce either, so Dean concludes honesty _is_ the key with him.

“Yeah, ok. I think I’d like that.”

Dean knows his smile is too big and he should turn it down a notch, but the feeling of ‘right’, ‘right’, ‘right’ is a little difficult to ignore at the moment.

“Alright. Great. Uhm, see you soon then. Goodnight, Jimmy.”

“Goodnight.....?”

Ah. Jimmy had taken the hint, after all. He was just making sure Dean knew the rules of the game.

Dean Winchester Singer is a damn good game player.

“Dean.”

“Dean. Goodnight, Dean. I’ll see you again soon.” A little, resigned smile accompanies those words. Jimmy doesn’t really believe he’ll see Dean again.

Dean loves doing the opposite of what people expect from him.

Jimmy will realize that soon enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys get to know each other better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, these two. They are too cute for their own good. 
> 
> And so are you, amazing people who read and leave kudos and comment on this. Know that you make me super happy when you do, thank you all ❤️
> 
> Please enjoy chapter 3. Let me know what you think about the ending 😬😬

Soon enough turned out to be the following evening.

The meeting with Jimmy had made Dean realize that, like his linen closet, the rest of his closet could use some freeing up and that he should give the clothes he never wore to someone who might need them.

With Jimmy in mind, he chose the warmest among the bazillion of scarf+beanie+gloves combos he had received for Christmas or his birthday over the years but had never used, and tucked it into his bag before leaving for work in the morning. He also resolved to take a close look at his wardrobe over the weekend and donate what he hadn’t worn in... well, never.

He passed by Jimmy’s spot on his way, but he wasn’t there. Dean got a weird feeling in his guts that suspiciously resembled panic. He reminded himself he had talked to the guy exactly _once_ and it was ridiculous he should feel this invested, and concluded that he was simply worried because Jimmy’s situation was admittedly exceptional and it was reasonable to be more concerned in this case. He could only hope he was OK and stop by after work.

He did his very best to keep his mind on what he was doing during the day, aware that a distraction might literally cost him one of his fingers, but he couldn’t prevent his wandering mind from going back to that empty spot every now and then. That was definitely one of those work days that seemed to never end, although it wasn’t because of an annoying costumer, or a seemingly unsolvable engine problem, or the seemingly unreasonably pissed attitude of his dad – seemingly because Bobby was a grumpy old dog, so it was actually weirder for him to be in a cheery mood than in a piss-poor one.

When it was finally time to go, Dean literally flew out of the body shop and definitely started walking a little faster than usual. He stopped to buy a bottle of water, a turkey sandwich and a fruit salad, because his brother was a broken record when it came to “eating healthy, Dean”, so Dean knew far too well that fruit contained a lot of vitamins, and he figured it could only do good to someone dealing with a cough and a cold.

He could always eat and drink that stuff himself if he didn’t bump into Jimmy tonight (‘Bump into. Please. As if you aren’t on a mission to go look for the guy,’ his traitorous mind commented.) He wouldn’t eat the fruit salad though. He couldn’t give Sammy the satisfaction. Even though Sammy wouldn’t see him eating it, he would _know_ , he would _see_ it on Dean, Dean knew. He and his brother had a weird (‘awesome’) psychic bond like that.

He clearly didn’t want to eat the turkey sandwich and the damn fruit salad for dinner though, or else he wouldn’t have known how to explain the relief he felt when he saw Jimmy in his spot.

Jimmy, for his part, tilted his head when he saw someone who was clearly intent on approaching him and only relaxed a bit, a tentative smile appearing on his face, when Dean got close enough that Jimmy finally recognized him.

“Heya, Jimmy.”

“Dean. You’re back.”

“Yep. Wanted to see how you’re doing. And I also have something for you.”

“Dean, you don’t have to-.”

“Hey, no worries, I didn’t even spend a cent for this. It’s something I had at home and never use. You might already have some in your bag for all I know.”

“My bag?”

Jimmy could definitely go from fairly relaxed to wound up super tight in a fraction of a millisecond.

“Relax, Jimmy, please. I mean nothing by it. I just saw it poking out from under your blanket yesterday, and figured that’s where you keep what you have.”

That seemed to be enough of a reasonable explanation, because Jimmy’s shoulders visibly went down, allowing Dean to keep talking.

“Like I said, it’s not much,” Dean told Jimmy as he started opening his bag to give him his hand-me-downs. “Just a beanie, a scarf and a pair of gloves. They should be pretty warm, and I never wear them, so I thought even if you already have some, a spare can always come in handy.”

“That...helps a lot, in fact. I don’t have a beanie, and that _will_ come in handy, especially at night. Same for the gloves, as I only have these fingerless ones and I was starting to think I’d lose a finger or two before winter was over. And the scarf...I do have this one I’m wearing, but a second scarf on top can only help, with this cold and all.”

The ‘right’, ‘right’, ‘right’ feeling was positively pulsing inside of Dean now.

“Speaking of which... the cough medicine you gave me seems to have helped too. This was the first night in weeks I didn’t wake up coughing my lungs out. So, you know, thank you. Really.”

“Good. That’s-, um, great. I’m so glad to hear that.” And he really was too. He told himself it was because he had spent a few minutes reading the instructions on different boxes to try and choose the best one, and he seemed to have picked a good one after all. So, you know, congrats on a job well done and all that.

“Hey, so, I passed by this morning but you weren’t here?” Dean just left it at that, letting Jimmy decide whether he wanted to tell him where he was or not. It’s not like Dean was entitled to that information, after all.

“Yeah. Um, there’s a 24/7 diner near here, you know?”

“Yeah.” That was where Dean had bought the tea for Jimmy the previous day.

“If they don’t sell all the stuff from the previous day, they give what they have left to homeless people the following morning. But you gotta be in front of their back entrance super early, because there’s a line and when the food is over, it’s over. So that’s where I usually go in the morning. Sometimes it’s the only food I eat all day, so, yeah.”

Making a mental note to go spend his money in that diner whenever possible from now on, and realizing knowing about Jimmy’s morning routine meant he wouldn’t have to spend his working day worrying about him tomorrow, Dean jumped at the chance to ask, “Have you eaten anything after breakfast today?”

“No. But-“

“- Then you can't say no to this.”

When Dean showed him the food he had brought, Jimmy tried to object. “Dean, I can’t, you-“

“Please, Jimmy. Just let me help. It’s not even much, just a little something.”

“This is more than a little.”

“Please.”

That finally convinced Jimmy to accept the food, which he did reluctantly – clearly feeling like Dean was bothering too much – but with a grateful smile and a whispered “Thank you.”

Dean was honestly torn. He truly wanted to help, but he also didn’t want to overstep. Jimmy was clearly a proud man who, for some reason, ended up depending on the kindness of strangers, and he just as clearly still struggled with it. Then again, for all Dean knew, Jimmy might have chosen this. Dean could have never even thought about willingly choosing that kind of life, but Jimmy wasn’t Dean. He might have thought he deserved it or something, like some sort of self-inflicted punishment.

In the end, it was Dean’s need to help Jimmy that won out and, having noticed the man had a sturdy water-proof jacket with a hood, but no sleeping bag, just a cardboard and his blanket, Dean went back the following day after work. Besides bringing him a dinner of vitamin water, a Caesar salad and a bar of chocolate, Dean insisted until Jimmy accepted a sleeping bag he had been gifted years before and never used because going camping just wasn’t his thing. Having gone through the gag gifts he had got in the last few years too, he also decided to give Jimmy a Little Mermaid-themed hoodie, absolutely hideous but very warm, that his colleagues had given him for his birthday last year, and some of the awful socks Sammy seemed to think it was a _great_ idea to _always_ buy Dean for Christmas. Considering how ugly all those pieces of clothing were, it didn’t take too much convincing for Jimmy to believe Dean wanted to get rid of them.

Dean is smiling to himself as he’s recalling all these interactions with Jimmy on his way to work, especially how Jimmy had laughed – boisterously, head thrown back and nose all scrunched up – when Dean told him about the day he had to wear the Little Mermaid hoodie at work because he had lost a bet with a colleague, and about the variously puzzled ways his customers had looked at him, when he sees Jimmy in his usual spot. Where he shouldn’t be, because this is definitely breakfast time. Caught off guard, Dean’s making his way to him even before he fully realizes his feet are moving.

“Morning, Jimmy. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Oh, uhm, yeah. I-. Was quicker than usual this morning.”

Not that Sammy has given him that many opportunities to develop his big brother bullshit detector, but even his amazing little brother went through his teenage years, so Dean _has_ learnt to recognize when he’s been bullshitted.

“There wasn’t any food left when you got at the diner, was there?”

Jimmy’s shoulders slumping and his sigh precede a barely whispered “No. I got there too late. I-.”

A sigh and a head shake. Nothing more. What’s Jimmy not telling him?

“You?”

“Nothing. It was my fault, I was late.”

There’s something more. Jimmy seems...ashamed? Dean doesn’t like prying, but he senses this is something he should know more about.

“Why were you late, Jimmy?”

Jimmy looks him straight in the eye and seems to be considering whether he should lie or not, before dropping his gaze, huffing a self-deprecating laugh and shaking his head again as he replies, “I overslept. Can you believe that? The sleeping bag and extra clothing you gave me last night kept me warm, like _really_ warm, for the first time in months. And I ended up oversleeping.”

Dean feels like crying. He’s beside himself with happiness to know that he’s truly helping Jimmy deal with the cold. But he’s also internally screaming at the knowledge that Jimmy might have spent a whole day on an empty stomach just because he dared enjoy a little comfort for the first time in _months_. Well, that’s not going to fucking happen.

“Wait here, okay? I’ll be back ASAP.”

“Dean, no-“ is the last thing Dean hears before he stands up and starts walking in the direction of the diner.

He shoots a text to his dad telling him he’ll be forty minutes late as he’s waiting for his breakfast order to be ready, and he goes back to Jimmy within twenty minutes.

“OK, so, here we have tea, two breakfast sandwiches, a couple of pancakes, and some OJ. Anything else you’d like?

Jimmy is eyeing him with an expression between utter disbelief, gratefulness and amusement. Could be worse, Dean thinks. Could be raining, right?

“A long, warm, relaxing shower” is the reply Dean gets, accompanied by a chuckle and another head shake. Amused, not self-deprecating, this time.

“OK, I’ll come get you at the end of my shift and you can shower at my place. I’ll probably be later than usual though, as I’ll have to make up for showing up late this morning.”

“What?” Jimmy will definitely catch flies if he doesn’t find a way to close his mouth sometime this century.

“You heard me.”

Jimmy acts as if he’s dealing with a wild beast, as he slowly licks his lips, frowns, and cautiously ask, “And it’s still... expectation free?”

“Absolutely,” Dean replies with honesty, holding his gaze and allowing for the other man to see that there’s nothing in his eyes apart from a burning need to give him a hand. Dean should probably look at said burning need a little bit more closely, but whatever.

“And you’d open your house to a stranger? A hobo? What if I attack you and steal from you?”

“Are you gonna attack me and steal from me?”

“I wouldn’t tell you if I was.”

“I’ll take my chances.” ‘Even though that is a _crazy_ thing to do’, a voice in his mind that sounds not so suspiciously like his brother’s is screaming.

“Why do you wanna help me, Dean? You don’t even know me. For all you know, I might be a monster, I might deserve this.”

“Do you think you deserve it?”

Silence is the only reply Dean gets. No self-punishment then. Jimmy didn’t choose this. Dean’s even more intent on helping him now.

“So you’re not a monster. And you don’t deserve this. Because lemme tell you man, only very few, selected categories of people would deserve to be left to die on the street. And you don’t strike me as belonging to any of those.”

“And what would those categories be?”

“Pedophiles, rapists, serial killers. Are you any of those things?”

“No!” Jimmy replies horrified.

“There you go. Besides, you’re not a stranger. We’re getting to know each other, becoming friends.”

“We are?”

“We are.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has a guest over and realizes a thing or two while being his awesome caregiving self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be gentle with your hearts and handle the overload of domesticity that's about to follow with care 🥰😊

Leading Jimmy through the front door of his house is surreal.

The walk back to his place had been a silent affair, an awkward silence reigning after the brief “Hey Jimmy, ready?”, “Sure” interaction they had when Dean met him at this spot after work.

They were probably both thinking about what a big leap into the void this was for the both of them, Dean muses now. Jimmy _could_ attack Dean and rob him. But Dean could attack Jimmy too, and do far worse than robbing him. Surely the thought has crossed Jimmy’s mind, it would frankly be unreasonable if it hadn’t.

Yet, here both are. Dean, against any sane person’s better judgment, trusting Jimmy not to make him regret his offer. Jimmy, also against any sane person’s better judgment, trusting Dean not to make him regret accepting it.

Dean knows for a fact that Jimmy’s trust isn’t misplaced. He can only hope his own isn’t misplaced either. He guesses he’ll know soon enough.

“OK, so, the living’s room that way. I’ll go make the bathroom ready for you. Be back in a few.”

“OK, thanks.”

Admittedly, Jimmy has never challenged Jiminy Cricket for the crown of the most talkative of them all, but he seems to have completely lost the ability to communicate beyond single phrases. And there’s not a single muscle in his body or face which isn’t tense. He’s clearly wondering what the fuck possessed him to say yes. Dean can only try and be as welcoming as possible and hope that’ll be enough for Jimmy to come to believe he’s not in danger.

Still, Dean’s more than a little certain Jimmy won’t be there when he resurfaces from the bathroom. He absolutely refuses to believe he might not be the only thing no longer there though. Jimmy will _not_ steal from him and disappear into the night.

Step number one, the bathroom. Dean puts towels and a brand new toothbrush on top of the cupboard, and a new sponge in the shower. He’s really gonna have to be extra thoughtful with Jess’s birthday gift this year to thank her for buying everything on his list while he was at work today. Next to the towels, he leaves an electric shaver, in case Jimmy wants to shave his beard too. He also has a traditional shaving kit, with a straight razor and all, but he doesn’t want to risk leaving Jimmy with something like that. He doesn’t really think Jimmy might self harm, he’s fighting to live on the streets and that means he’s still attached to life, at least to a certain extent, but Dean’s been reading about the hopelessness related to homelessness and he doesn’t want to take any chances. Not when he’s determined to do anything he can to help the man turn his life around, because he genuinely seems to be an incredibly decent guy and no one deserves to end up on the streets and be ignored more than a dog strolling on a leash with their humans. Ignored like Dean himself would have very likely ignored him, if he hadn’t been wrapped up in his blanket. The pang of guilt that always follows that thought is as sharp as ever.

Step number two, the bedroom. Dean lays some of his clothes on his bed for Jimmy to wear after his shower, because he has every intention to suggest Jimmy should let him wash the clothes he’s wearing now and has been wearing for god knows how long. Not only is that the sanitary thing to do and can only help with his cold, but it also means the clothes will need time to dry. Which implies Jimmy might accept to stay for dinner at the very least, even though Dean’s endgame is to actually offer him his couch for the night. Dean’s thinking about how to phrase that question without making it sound like he’s propositioning the guy in exchange for his kindness as he puts warm sweatpants and a warm long sleeve shirt next to a pair of socks with silly reindeers he got for Christmas, courtesy of Sammy of course, which Dean hopes will make Jimmy smile like the dog’s flapping ears on the blanket had.

When Dean emerges from the bedroom, Jimmy’s still there. In the sense that he’s _right where_ Dean had left him.

“Jimmy. You could have sat down, you know.”

“I don’t wanna soil anything, so I thought I’d stand.”

Yeah, like that’s not the saddest fucking thing that’s ever been said in this house.

Dean refuses to let the atmosphere turn sour though. He wants Jimmy to feel good tonight, not out of place.

“You’re too considerate for your own good, Jimmy. That wasn’t really necessary, you know. But, ehm, thanks anyway.”

This thing they do where they just look at each other smiling is a new experience to Dean. He’s never done it, not with this frequency, with anyone before.

Time to get back on track.

“Now,” Dean continues after clearing his throat, “the bathroom’s that way, first door on the left after the kitchen. I left out towels, a new toothbrush, and a shaver in case you want to get rid of your beard. There are some clothes you can wear on the bed in the room right in front of the bathroom. Just leave your clothes outside the door so I can start a load.”

“Dean, that’s too much trouble.”

“It is also the logical thing to do. It’d be pointless for you to be all clean and then put on dirty clothes. Just leave everything outside the bathroom door, the load will start while you’re in the shower, and it will certainly be done by the time we are done with dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Of course. You didn’t really think I wouldn’t invite you for dinner the one time I actually have a chance to offer you a warm meal that you can enjoy while sitting at a table, did you?”

“I-. I can’t say I’m completely surprised, no. But I. Don’t want to impose.”

“I insist. Please.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Jimmy. I wouldn’t be offering if I wasn’t.” Dean goes for what he hopes is his most reassuring smile, knowing Jimmy is still on edge, and the prospect of staying even longer than planned seems to be making it even more difficult for him to relax. Dean can barely wrap his mind around the idea of doing something even though you are so scared of doing it. Either this man is the bravest (or the most reckless) person he has ever met, or Dean has somehow managed to come across as the good person he is and that’s giving Jimmy the courage to go ahead with all of this.

“Alright, I’ll stay for dinner. Thank you, Dean. Really.”

“No problem. Go ahead. I’ll start dinner and then take care of laundry. Take your time, okay? Shampoo and body wash are in the shower, and your sponge is the blue one. The green one’s mine. Enjoy the long, warm, relaxing shower I promised.”

Jimmy’s chuckle in reply to Dean’s grin is the first sign he’s shown that he’s finally calming down a bit. Good. Dean really hopes this will be the beginning of the relaxing break from the hardship of his life on the street he’s meant to offer Jimmy from the start.

“Okay. See you in a bit then.”

“Sure.”

Watching Jimmy being so unsure and tentative as he walks in the direction of the bathroom is both the cutest and the saddest thing Dean’s seen in a long time. He needs to get busy with dinner like now or he’ll make himself really fucking disheartened just thinking about it.

A quick scan through his fridge and cupboards confirms that Jess bought everything he asked for _and_ stored it away in all the right places. His brother is damn lucky. And his sister in law knows his house as if it was her own. Which should probably sound weird but it’s just comforting to Dean. He has people who know him like the back of their hands and love him anyway. That’s so much more than many can say.

Definitely much more than Jimmy can say.

Even though, Dean reflects while seasoning the chicken thighs before putting them in the oven, he doesn’t really know the story. Jimmy _might_ have someone who loves him. But then why is he homeless and alone now? Did he run away? Is he trying to escape something, or someone? Or was he really so alone that he ended up on the streets and no one was there to prevent that? Did he have a job, lost it and lost everything else as a consequence? He didn’t have any savings then? And how did he lose his job, supposing he had one? Was it his fault?

All these questions crowd Dean’s mind as he goes to collect Jimmy’s clothes to start a load, before going back to the kitchen to focus on the green beans and mashed potatoes. At the end of the whole process he doesn’t have a single answer, but at least Jimmy’s clothes are being washed and dinner’s on the right track.

“Hello Dean.”

The sound of Jimmy’s voice makes Dean turn around, potato masher still in hand, and freeze.

Jimmy looks hot as fuck.

He’s definitely skinnier than such a tall, broad-shouldered man should be. But he’s got those blue eyes which seem to be sparkling like never before, he’s shaved, his hair is still damp and he’s wearing Dean’s clothes.

Dean’s half hard in three seconds flat. At second number four, however, he chastises himself for lusting after someone who’s in trouble and he’s supposed to be _helping_. Time to stop being a pervert and to remember how to be civil.

“Hey Jimmy. How are you doing? Feeling any better?”

The smile Jimmy gives him in reply is more breathtaking than the northern lights. Wow, all his blood flowing downstairs is clearly turning Dean into a poet.

“Immensely better. You have no idea. I-. Thank you, Dean. So, so much. I haven’t felt this...alive in so long.”

Dean’s smile is almost as big as Jimmy’s, Dean’s sure of it. Hearing Jimmy say that is making him feel so damn relieved.

“I’m so glad to hear you say that.”

They’re just looking at each other and smiling. Again. And that’s not helping the situation in Dean’s groin in the slightest.

“I, um, got busy with laundry and dinner, so I haven’t had the time to set the table. Can I ask you to help me with that while I finish here?”

Giving him something small to do will probably make Jimmy feel better about being “imposing”, as he put it.

His enthusiastic “Sure! Just tell me where I can find everything” confirms it.

Giving Jimmy instructions and going back to the potatoes give Dean a chance to get lost in his head for a few more minutes. Which he desperately needs, after the epiphany that he has the hots for the man currently setting the table for their dinner together.

He asks himself whether he’d have opened his house to someone in Jimmy’s situation if they had been older or less attractive. Because the fact that, even not at his best, Jimmy is an incredibly good looking guy has never passed unnoticed. And he decides that yes, he would have. His biological father, before dropping the 10 year old him and his 6 year old brother at child services, had taught him to respect the elders. That’s basically the one good thing he ever did for him, besides donating his sperm. So, Dean concludes, yes, he would have helped him even if he hadn’t been young and attractive. In that case, the difference would have been that Dean wouldn’t have had to actively remind himself that having naughty thoughts about someone in need who might go along with those thoughts simply out of gratitude is _wrong_.

“The table’s ready.” The ding of the oven timer right then pulls a little laugh out of both of them.

“So is dinner, it seems. Can you grab the green peas and the potatoes and I’ll take the chicken?”

On his way to the table, Dean switches on the TV and sets it on the news channel. He figures the background noise will prevent the silence from becoming too awkward, should there be a lull in the conversation. And having something else to watch other than the very handsome man in front of him – who is wearing _Dean’s clothes –_ might prevent Dean from behaving like a total _creep_.

“Everything smells delicious, Dean.”

“Let’s just hope it tastes as good as it smells,” Dean replies while putting a healthy portion of mashed potatoes on his plate before passing them to Jimmy.

Sammy says his jokes are the most obvious of his self-deprecation mechanisms. Now that he suddenly feels nervous at the thought Jimmy might not like what he cooked, Dean is almost inclined to think his brother might be right. Sammy also says Dean’s self-deprecation is often unwarranted. Dean can only hope his brother’s right about that too.

He’s pulled out of his musings when a pornographic sound – there’s no other way to describe it – leaves Jimmy’s mouth.

Dean must be staring at him like the total creep he didn’t want to come across as, because a light blush appears on Jimmy’s cheeks and he hastens to swallow his bite and licks his lips before saying “I’m sorry. I-, just... haven’t eaten anything so tasty and warm in quite some time. And, well, this makes me very happy.”

Dean forces himself to smile even though his chest aches for the man sitting across from him. “And I’m very happy to hear that.”

And they’re staring at each other and smiling again.

Time to go back to eating and to have a nice, light conversation.

Talking about the seasoning of the meat is as safe a topic of discussion as Dean can come up with, and that leads to Dean telling Jimmy about him learning to cook thanks to his adoptive mum, who’s an incredible cook, being willing to teach him. And that leads Dean to tell Jimmy about him and his brother having been adopted as kids.

So the conversation ends up being not so light, after all, but it doesn’t turn sad either. Jimmy seems interested and asks more than a couple of questions. Never anything invasive though. He’s clearly a very thoughtful and respectful person. Dean notices he doesn’t contribute any information about himself, but he seems genuinely interested in knowing about Dean.

The evening’s going so well and Dean’s feeling so relaxed he hasn’t noticed they’ve both cleaned their plates of every last bit of food until Jimmy says “Thank you, Dean. This was delicious. I hope you’ll let me at least wash the dishes before I go?”

Right. Now or never.

“I have a dishwasher, Jimmy, so you don’t have to worry about the dishes. But, ehm, you don’t have to go, you know? Why, um, why don’t you stay for the night?”

Jimmy’s suddenly on high alert, a betrayed look on his face. “Dean, you said-“

“No, Jimmy, not like that. I mean, on the couch.”

How this man visibly tenses and just as visibly relaxes in a matter of seconds would be awe-inspiring, if Dean didn’t know that it is the consequence of living in the most precarious of conditions.

“You’d let me sleep in your house? I could rob you, Dean.”

“You could. And if you will, I will accept that and move on. But, honestly, I don’t think you will.”

“You don’t?”

“I don’t.”

Jimmy’s bashful smile is truly a little gem. Dean needs to get a fucking grip on his errant thoughts.

“Come on, Jimmy. If you stay tonight, you will give your lungs some respite from the cold, you will sleep on a soft surface, it will give your clothes all the time they need to dry, and there will be breakfast in the morning too. I promise you’re safe here.”

Scratch being a mechanic, Dean should have gone for law school with how good he apparently is at making a convincing case, when he’s desperate enough to really try.

Jimmy seems to be looking into his very soul. Dean’s not sure he’ll only find good things in there, but he won’t certainly find any harmful intentions. Jimmy must get to that very conclusion, because he takes a deep breath and replies “Yeah, OK. I’ll stay. Thank you, Dean.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A secret is revealed over breakfast. And we see things from a POV other than Dean's for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how I fared with the change in POV? 
> 
> As always, thank you so so much for the love you are showing this fic and me ❤️
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy the update!

Castiel is woken up by the smell of coffee and bacon.

He fell asleep then, even though he had no intention to. The months spent living in the street have changed his sleeping habits dramatically, for obvious reasons. Deep sleep is a thing of the past. He only allows himself to fall into a relatively deep sleep once a week or so – and always when he finds a bed at the shelter – clutching his measly belongings to himself. The rest of time he slumbers, and he’s always ready to wake up at the first sign of someone or something approaching. And Dean really seems to be a decent person, more than, in fact, but if the street has taught Castiel anything, it is that trust is the most precious of gifts, and shouldn’t be distributed lightly. So when Dean bid him goodnight after helping him turn the couch into a bed and headed for his bedroom, Castiel had lied down with the intention of making the most of this break from the unforgiving winter cold and the hard surface of the sidewalk, but without falling asleep. Not that that would have been an easy thing to do regardless, with all the thoughts clouding his mind. Winter had just started, how he was going to survive until spring Castiel frankly had no idea. The stuff Dean had given him and that would save his ass for some time would only help so much as winter got colder. So Castiel wasn’t really worried he’d fall asleep. Resting would have to be enough anyway. He was in an unknown house with a man he barely knew. A man who was bigger than him. And, considering how scarce food is when you’re homeless, was certainly stronger too. Castiel has been propositioned more than once ever since he ended up on the street, and been looked at as meat more often than he cares to remember, but he has managed to avoid being sexually assaulted so far. And he wants to keep it like that for as long as possible.

But he _did_ fall asleep. Probably because of how relaxed his first hot shower in _months_ had made him. He’d felt like crying when the first touch of hot water cascaded over his body. He had forgotten how a long, relaxing shower could make you feel. How loose your muscles could be afterwards. How your head could suddenly feel empty of anything but the sound of water on and around you. For Castiel, not being able to wash regularly is one of the hardest part of homelessness, together with hunger and the cold, which is what led him to accept Dean’s offer of a warm shower in the first place, as crazy as that was – even though it certainly helped that Dean _really_ comes across as trustworthy and good-hearted – because he just couldn’t ignore the opportunity to have a real, proper shower after so long. He tries to keep as clean as possible. He uses water and soap in public restrooms or in the toilets at the shelter to wash up whenever he can, even slides his wet hands through his hair when the day is sunny and he can let it dry while he sunbathes on a bench. On the days he can’t help but beg for the kindness of strangers, he uses what remains after he’s bought food to buy cleaning products like deodorant, wet wipes, and toothpaste, or even those sugar-free xylitol-sweetened chewing gums his dentist had suggested when he couldn't use a toothbrush, back when he could afford to go to the dentist. He can to do that thanks to the nice kid that works the graveyard shift at one of the convenient stores in the neighborhood who doesn’t treat homeless people like trash but allows them to buy what they need, and even exchanges some polite conversation with them when they’re paying for their stuff. And on those _very_ lucky days when he gets given more than some spare change and he can afford it, he also washes his clothes at a laundromat, which, until Dean and his hand-me-downs came along, he’d only been able to do thanks to the change of clothes he was given at the shelter the same day they gave him the ratty bag he’s used to store them and his other few possessions in ever since. That was a few weeks before Dean’s blankets were distributed and he chose the ugliest, but also funniest, one, Cas remembers now with a fond smile. 

He knows he’s managed to keep himself somewhat socially bearable this way, even though he’s not the cleanest person on earth, and that that’s probably due to the fact that he’s been on the streets for months rather than years. He might not care enough to keep trying like that for much longer, as living on the streets is wearing him down, he can feel that. Before meeting Dean, for example, he can't say he had never felt the impulse to turn to the bottle just to _feel_ some warmth, even knowing that his body temperature wasn't really going up. Castiel's thought more than once that that's a destiny Dean's saving him from by putting an actually hot tea in his hand and chasing the temptation of the bottle away. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he's even offered him the chance to feel the unbelievable warmth of a proper shower again. A luxury he _thoroughly_ enjoyed last night. He relished the hot water, washing his body and his hair properly – he’d missed that _so much_ – with the heavenly smelling body wash and shampoo Dean provided him with, and wrapping himself in the soft bathrobe Dean had left for him. He’d almost cried again when he’d finally been able to shave his beard after months and then again when he found clean clothes on the bed for him to wear after his shower.

Apparently, the nutritious meal, the pleasant conversation, the comfortable couch and the warm blankets had done the rest. 

He fell asleep. 

And nothing happened.

He’s woken up on the same couch, with the same clothes he went to bed with still on, and under the same warm blankets.

And he’s been woken up by the smell of coffee and bacon.

Pinching himself to make sure he’s awake and not still trapped in dreamland is more than a bit cliché, but that’s exactly what he’s about to do when Dean’s voice carries from the kitchen.

“Heya Jimmy, welcome back to the land of the living.” Dean says, clearly having somehow realized he’s awake, and then chuckles at his own joke. He sure is an adorable dork sometimes.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I did. More than. Thank you,” Castiel replies, getting up and walking into the kitchen. He doesn’t think he’s ever said those two words as often as he has in the past five days. “I’ll-“, Jesus but his mouth is dry, some water would be nice, “- just use the toilet, if I may, and get dressed and I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.” Better not to overstay his welcome, right?

“What? No! There’s breakfast!”

Dean _had_ mentioned breakfast the previous night, but Castiel hadn’t dared hope. Better to have low expectations than fierce disappointment. The street sure is a generous teacher. And Castiel needs to at least remind Dean he doesn’t see that as a given. He’s been way kinder than Castiel could have ever hoped for. What he’s already done is so much more than enough. He’s done more than letting him take a shower, feeding him a good meal and offering him a comfortable bed. He’s respected him, helped him without asking for anything in return, anything at all, treated him like a _person_ rather than a cockroach one’d like to be able to just terminate and get rid of. Never once has Dean looked at him in disgust. He’s done more to restore Castiel’s faith in humanity in five days than everyone else has done in the entirety of his life.

“Dean, you don’t have to do all this for me, you know.”

“Hey, it’s no trouble. I need to have breakfast too, amirite? Now, coffee or tea?”

“Mhm?”

“Would you like coffee or tea? To drink? I know shit about tea, am a coffee drinker myself, but my sis-in-law suggested this tea brand she likes, so I have tea too.”

“You don’t drink tea but you have tea?”

“Well,” Dean’s looking almost embarrassed as he brings his left hand to the back of his neck, his eyes darting everywhere but Castiel’s face. “When we talked about you taking a shower here yesterday morning, I figured I’d have a chance to put some food and drinks in you, so I thought I’d get stuff you might like. So I asked Jess – that’s the amazing woman my brother managed to marry even though she’s totally out of his league – to do me a favor, since I knew she had to go grocery shopping anyway, and to buy some things for me and drop them off while I was at work.”

Castiel’s eyes feel watery for a second and his face softens in spite of himself. Not only did Dean put effort into making him feel safe and at home personally, but he also used some of his brownie points with his family to achieve that. He clears his throat. How is this man even real?

“Thank you Dean. You’re... exceptional.”

The London Eye has got nothing on Dean’s eye roll in reply to that. This wonderful man doesn’t know how to take a compliment. Interesting. “Shut up and tell me what I can give you to drink. Bacon and pancakes OK for breakfast? Hope so because that’s all we have.” Dean chuckles and rubs his neck again, as if he’s embarrassed he’s not giving Castiel even _more_.

“It’s perfect. And some tea would be just great.”

“Sure. Go sit down, I’ll bring everything over in a minute.”

Breakfast is a quiet affair, both men clearly needing a minute to regain full wakefulness aided by food and drinks.

Once he’s done eating, Castiel goes to retrieve the cough medicine from his bag and replies to Dean’s questioning look with “I’m taking the last dose of the cough medicine you gave me. I read the instructions and they say to keep taking it even if the cough gets better, as it did in my case.”

Dean’s pleased smile is heartwarming. “Yeah, I noticed you’ve barely coughed since we got here.”

“The extra warmth I got thanks to a certain someone helped a lot too, as well as the vitamins and sustenance in the extra food and drinks, still courtesy of the same certain someone.”

Goodness but it feels _great_ to be bantering like this with another human being.

“Shut-“

“- And I’m sure a whole night’s sleep all clean, comfortable and warm will also go a long way in helping too.”

Dean seems truly happy to hear that.

“I’m glad, Jimmy. I really, really am.”

Castiel _hates_ it when Dean calls him with that stupid name. He hates it more and more every time he uses it.

“It’s Castiel,” he blurts out.

“What?”

“My-, my name. It’s not Jimmy. It’s Castiel.”

Dean looks taken aback, confused and... a little hurt too? “Ok? May I-, um, can I ask why you lied to me?”

“Because my name is one of the few things of mine that I have left. I didn’t know you, Dean. I didn’t know that I could give you something of mine and you wouldn’t take it and run with it. I honestly didn’t expect to see you again. I figured, once you’d done your good deed and appeased your conscience, you’d be gone like everyone else.”

Dean’s just staring at him, face unreadable, completely silent.

“Please, Dean, I’m sorry. Please understand,” he can only whisper while dropping his eyes to the table in front of him, unable, undeserving, to look at Dean’s face any longer, knowing full well that he doesn’t have any right to ask him to be understanding.

This amazing man has done nothing but help him and that’s how he’s repaid him. By lying to him for days. Castiel has nothing. He begs for food and shelter. Yet he’s never felt as ashamed as he feels now.

He’d meant to come clean on day two, when Dean had come looking for him like he had said he would, but he was honestly so happy to have some form of meaningful human contact again, that he didn’t want to ruin it. And then it never seemed like a good time and-.

Enough.

He really doesn’t have any good excuse for lying to Dean’s face for days on end, if not his own selfishness. He’ll just have to be strong enough and face the music he himself started playing.

When he raises his gaze, however, he isn’t met with the judgement and disappointment he expected. Dean’s face has visibly softened and his eyes seem a little shinier than they were a moment ago.

So Castiel hastens to keep talking, before Dean has a chance to reply.

“Anyway, so, thank you so much for everything. The shower, dinner, the good night’s sleep, washing all my stuff, breakfast. You have no idea what this all means to me. Thank you. If you tell me where I can find my clothes, I’ll just use the toilet real quick, get dressed and go. I-, you know, I don’t wanna keep you. But, um, I hope I’ll see you around sometimes?”

Castiel supposes there is no way to convey ‘please don’t disappear on me even though I lied to you’ that doesn’t make you sound lame and desperate, is there?

“Of course you will!” Dean’s stubborn frown will never not be adorable. Castiel has to stop thinking about him as ‘adorable’, ‘unreal’, ‘exceptional’ real fast. Even though all of that is true, nothing good can come out of Castiel falling for a man totally out of his league on top of everything else he already has going on.

“I’m not leaving you be, Castiel, as much as you might want me to,” Dean says with a smile that somehow manages to be cocky and insecure at the same time. Castiel’s pretty sure his name has never sounded as beautiful as it did just now when Dean used it for the first time. “But, um, it doesn’t have to be like that. You could...stay? I’d be happy to put you up for some time, until you get back on your feet.”

Not thinking about Dean as ‘exceptional’ might be harder than planned, when the man cannot even stop being so _for one damn minute_.

“That’s an incredibly generous offer, Dean. Especially knowing what you know now. That, um, I haven’t been able to be honest with you like you’ve been with me from the start.”

“Cas...tiel-“

“No, Dean, please, let me finish. Part of me wants to jump at the offer, so bad. But, I don’t want to take advantage. I can keep sleeping in the street when it’s not too cold or it isn’t raining, or go to the shelter four blocks from my spot when it is. I-, I haven’t gone there too often so far to leave space for older homeless people who can’t face even the kind of cold I’ve dealt with until now, since it’s one of the few shelters in the city where you don’t get charged for a bed, but now that’s getting colder I’m gonna have to.”

Dean’s facial expression changes for a moment, but it’s too fast for Castiel to interpret. Maybe he thinks Castiel’s an idiot for still thinking about others in his situation. Hell, sometimes Castiel himself thinks so. But that’s how he is, and, quite frankly, holding on to the last shreds of what used to make him _him_ is what’s keeping him going, so he’ll do that for as long as he can. And then. Well, then he’ll see.

“But that’s-,” Dean sighs, clearly trying to find the right way to phrase what he’s about to say. He does that a lot, pause and think before he speaks. Castiel appreciates it greatly. “That’s not necessary, Castiel. Why would you want to do that when you could just stay here?”

Dean sounds almost... rejected? Castiel needs to make him understand that’s not what this is _at all_.

“I know it sounds crazy, I know. And I know that if I stayed, you’d go out of your way to help, like you’ve been doing so far.”

“I’ve done noth-“

“Yes, Dean, you have. Which is why I need to do this this way. Because if I stayed, the doubt I only befriended you because of the stability you could offer me would always be there. But that’s-,” he understands Dean’s need to sigh and think like never before. How to phrase it?

“That’s not what this is. You’re the first person who‘s shown genuine interest in me in so, so long. The first person willing to help me without expecting anything in return. I can’t-, I _need_ to have this, to have this opportunity, to have you, in my life. You are giving me hope, and that is keeping me sane. I can’t risk ruining this by being greedy and taking advantage of it. Right now, having that is even more important than food and shelter.”

Something flashes through Dean’s features, there and gone, again. If Castiel had to bet, he’d bet on surprise this time. But Castiel has nothing to wager, so. Whatever it is Dean is thinking, he seems to finally make a decision. He seems resigned when he says “You’re not taking advantage, I’m offering,” as a sort of last ditch attempt.

Castiel has to smile at that. “I know, and I can’t thank you enough for it. But I still need to do this in a way that doesn’t make me, or you, feel like I am milking your generosity for all its worth. But, I mean, I hope you’ll keep coming to visit me when you can? Chat a bit? That’d, um, that’d be so much more than enough.”

“Of course I will!” Dean’s scandalized expression, as if the very thought of never speaking with Castiel again is ludicrous, is _beyond_ adorable. Castiel’s given up on the pretense he’ll ever be able to stop using ‘Dean’ in combination with ‘adorable’ in most of his thoughts.

He can feel how big his smile is when he replies “Thank you, Dean.”

When he lost everything, Castiel was certain he’d never smile this big again. He’s ecstatic to realize he was wrong. He’s also beyond grateful for Dean respecting his needs, as crazy as they might sound to him and as much as he clearly would like to do otherwise. Castiel’s feeling in control of something for the first time in months, and it is exhilarating.

“Ok, but I need you to at least promise me something, Castiel. Promise you’ll come here on the nights when it’s really cold or it’s raining and you don’t find a bed at the shelter.”

Dean’s taking Castiel’s needs into account. The least Castiel can do is return the favor.

“I promise.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas settle into their new routine, until one particularly freezing night. We also get a glimpe of how other people in Dean's life are dealing with him making this new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We go back to seeing things from Dean's perspective here. 
> 
> As always, thank you so, so much for all the love. You guys are the best ❤️😘

“You’re giving me hope.” Hopelessness is the biggest risk connected to homelessness, Dean’s research had said. So it had meant _so much_ when Cas said that. Which is why Dean had, reluctantly, accepted that he had to let him go.

It doesn’t mean he had to like it.

He doesn’t. Not even a little bit. He’d still prefer if Cas accepted his offer and moved in, but he respects that the man needs to do this his way. It’s his life, after all. Dean is a supporting character of his story, not a leading one.

The arrangement they have is better than nothing, Dean reasons, and they do settle into a routine in no time at all. Cas sleeps at the shelter most nights now and, when he can’t find a bed, he goes to his spot. On those nights, Dean always sees him and stops by on his way back from work. He always provides him with dinner and other stuff he might need, like vitamin tablets and baby wipes, on those nights. That is, of course, if he can’t convince him to sleep at his place, which Cas usually does once a week, so he can take a shower, shave, sleep somewhere warm and comfy without having to clutch his things to his chest in the fear of being robbed during the night, have all his stuff washed clean, and eat a healthy and warm dinner and breakfast.

The days when Cas is at the diner in the morning and at the shelter in the evening are always bittersweet to Dean. On the one hand, he’s glad to know Cas is eating something and sleeping in a place which is at least a little less cold, as unpleasant as it might be. On the other, not seeing him for a whole day, sometimes two, always puts a damper on Dean’s mood. When that happens, he always feels guilty because he’s thinking of what _he_ would prefer instead of what’s best for Cas. But Dean can’t help but worry. He wonders how Cas spends his days, where he goes, what he does, what and where – and if – he eats when he’s not with Dean.

He never asks openly though, just tells him about his day and hopes this will prompt Cas to share something about his own. All information Dean carefully stores away. He’s a hoarder, after all. He should probably question why he’s so avid for any snippet of Cas’s life, days and personality he can get his hands on, but decides to just ignore the problem until it goes away.

That’s how he finds out that Cas is an only child, when Dean tells him about the banter between him and Sammy and Cas replies that it must be nice having siblings, that he wouldn’t know because he has none. Or that he’d rather eat meat than fish but doesn’t hate greens as much as Dean does, when he tells him that Sammy had tricked him into eating a soy burger because “it looked _just like_ a regular burger Cas, but it _wasn’t_.” Or that he’s never seen the original Star Wars trilogy, when Dean tells him Sammy insists episode nine isn’t goddamn awful, which Dean declares will absolutely have to be remedied after dinner on the nights Cas is going to stay at Dean’s. His stomach might have done a reverse two and a half somersault dive deserving of an Olympic gold medal at the thought of having movie nights with Cas, but it’s not like Dean had to tell him _that_.

The nights Cas spends at Dean’s become the highlight of Dean’s week. Cas insists on helping as much as he can to “earn my keep, Dean”. He starts by having Dean teach him how to use the washing machine and the dryer, so he can take care of his own laundry. Then he suggests he could also help in the kitchen, which is how they end up cooking their dinners together and even start trying out new recipes. Dinner time is usually spent talking about anything and nothing in particular, but it’s always a chance to learn even more about Cas. Like his love for literature and the fact that, now that he’s fairly presentable for at least a couple of days after spending the night at Dean’s, he’s taken to spend those days in the public library, which is both warm and full of novels. Even though that’s still not ideal, Dean can’t help but feel happy about it. Whenever he has any proof that the help he’s giving Cas has an effect not only on the nights he spends at his place, but on the rest of his days too, he feels marginally better at the idea of Cas still being homeless. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t hate with a passion whenever Cas talks about _Sally_ , the “very nice librarian” Cas chats with every now and then, after she complimented him once on his Little Mermaid hoodie. The Little Mermaid hoodie _Dean_ has given him. Whatever.

Everything Dean lent him the first night he spent at Dean’s house becomes Cas’s, not because Dean doesn’t want to lend him other stuff, but because he thinks Cas might appreciate the idea of something being his, especially after what he said about his name. They never comment on it explicitly, but from Cas’s little sigh and pleased smile when he sees the clothes laid on the bed for him to wear after his shower, Dean thinks he understands. He also likes to think a similar smile appears on his face when he sees his toothbrush next to Dean’s in the holder, his sponge next to Dean’s in the shower, or his bathrobe hanging next to Dean’s behind the door.

Sammy even commented once that everyone using Dean’s bathroom would think there were two people living in Dean’s house. A weird, little shiver had run through Dean’s body when he heard the words “looks like someone else lives here”. If Dean had to be honest with himself (‘which is a _bad_ idea,’ his brain reminds him immediately), the smile Dean hopes Cas might wear when seeing those objects is the one _Dean_ always feels spreading over his face when he happens to look at any of them.

So things are going okay, all in all. Mostly, Dean hates the impossibility to get in touch with Cas when they’re not together. He even offered to buy him a phone, but Cat refused because he doesn’t want Dean to spend even more money on him and also because he would probably be mugged for it.

He hates that so much he got as far as whining about it with his little brother. The surprising thing was, where Dean expected understanding and possibly some words of comfort, he got a thoroughly thought about and clearly rehearsed speech about how Dean was the only one in the family who couldn’t see that this Castiel person was taking advantage of him.

Dean tried to explain – he even pointed out that Cas was still living in the street, in spite of the worsening weather conditions, precisely _not_ to take advantage of Dean. But he can’t stop thinking about Sammy’s look of pity and condescending tone when he replied that Dean was too good-hearted for his own good, which led Dean to point out that “down on your luck and scumbag aren’t synonyms, Sammy”, before upping and leaving.

Luckily Charlie is in his corner about all of this. Her rainbows-and-puppies attitude certainly has a lot to do with it, but she always says she’s proud of what he’s doing and he should be too. She also never fails to mention that she can’t wait to meet Cas and that she’s sure he’s totally a Hufflepuff (‘She’s wrong, Dean. He’s totally a Gryffindor like you,’ his brain amends every time she says that. It’s _so weird_ to agree with his brain on something, for a change.) And she keeps telling him that she’s dying to tell Cas all about their crazy adventures together and see if she can get him involved too. As if Dean would ever let that happen. He really hopes the two of them will meet one day – they are two of his favorite people, after all, and he loves having his favorite people all in the same room – but he’s gonna make 156% sure they are _never_ alone, so Charlie can never tell Cas about Dean in a pink maiden dress. The idea of _Cas_ in a pink dress, however... Not bad. Not bad at all. He’d be more of a princess than a maiden though.

The idea of giving serious consideration to the fact that Cas has very rapidly joined Charlie in the ‘Dean’s favorite people’ club is simply ridiculous instead. Even if that _is_ a club that doesn’t even need all the fingers of both hands for its members to be counted, so any new addition is kinda meaningful. This isn’t though. It just happened. Sometimes things just happen and they don’t have – or need – a reason. 

Sammy seems to disagree with that though. He’s clearly noticed that Castiel’s joined the club, and he even told Dean as much, the accusatory edge pretty clear in his voice, just like it was clear he was taking the piling signs of Cas’s presence in Dean’s apartment as ultimate evidence that he _was_ taking full advantage of Dean.

That time the argument died before it even began, however, when Jess said, seemingly to no one in particular, “I think it’s wonderful that Dean’s helping this man, and that he’s getting a new friend out of it. I wish there were more people who can be as _understanding_ and _supportive_ as the Winchester Singer brother _s_.” The edge of steel in her voice had been even more prominent than the accusatory one in Sam’s, and Dean had enjoyed a full HD view of his gargantuan brother folding onto himself like a scolded child.

That was the last time Dean ever heard Sam warn him about Cas. He was definitely gonna buy Jess a jewel or something for her birthday this year.

He’s replaying these conversations in his head as he passes by Cas’s corner and notices he’s not there. ‘He must be at the shelter,’ Dean tries to reason with himself to bite back the disappointment of not being able to talk to Cas today. ‘And that’s a good thing too, it’s cold as fuck tonight.’

Realizing that not seeing Cas now means he’s safe and not risking to freeze to death is enough to make Dean feel a bit better, heave a sigh and accept that he has to go home. He can only hope they will see each other tomorrow.

He’s about to go to bed a couple of hours later, when he hears a knock on his door. A quick glance at the clock tells him it’s past 11PM, so he goes to check the door with a furrowed brow. Who the hell knocks at someone’s door this late?

Looking through the peephole has chills run down his spine. On the other side is Cas. Dean doesn’t even realize he’s yanked the door open until he has a shivering Cas in his arms. His lips are blue, his eyes unfocused, his teeth are chattering, he’s barely standing, and he keeps mumbling something that sounds like “sorry”.

Dean reacts before he even rationalizes what he’s dealing with. He drags Cas to the bedroom, having to support almost all his weight, as the man is paralyzed by the cold. He turns the heating up on his way and helps Cas on the bed before taking his shoes and jacket off and bodily forcing him under the blankets. He goes to retrieve even more blankets to add to the bedding and then slides under them and glues himself to Cas, holding him as tight as he can to himself and whispering words of comfort. “Shh,” “It’s OK,” “You’re OK now,” “I’ve got you,” “Just hang in there a little longer,” “You’ll start feeling warmer soon.”

Adrenaline seriously is the power the moves the world, because nothing else explains how Dean’s able to be that steady and in control when his heart has been lodged in his throat ever since he looked through the damn peephole.

He doesn’t know how long they spend like that, but Cas’s shivers abate progressively until he’s still a human popsicle, but no longer a shivering one.

That’s when Dean says “There you go,” and kisses his forehead without even thinking about it.

“I haven’t showered properly in like five days, Dean,” Cas points out in response, and wow, the cold makes Cas grumpy. Dean thinks grumpy Cas is kinda adorable.

Which is why he can only huff a relieved laugh and say “I don’t care, Cas.”

“Cas?” Cas tilts his face up, leaving the sanctuary of Dean’s chest, to frown at him.

“Oh crap, sorry. It’s-. This thing I do with everyone’s name? I always shorten them. But, um, I know how much your name means to you, so I’m always careful not to do that with yours. I, um, I mean, didn’t want you to think I ‘took it and ran with it’.” Cas’s gaze softens impossibly when he hears Dean say that, so he can’t be that mad, can he? Better to apologize just in case. “I’m sorry it slipped this time. ‘M not exactly thinking clearly here. You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry Dean, I didn’t mean to. And I, um, like Cas.” Cas smiles shyly and ducks his head to resume his snuggling position against Dean’s chest. Is he...embarrassed? That seemed like a pleased smile though. “No one’s ever called me that. I, um, like the idea that we have something which is only ours.”

That sentence alone makes Dean so mushy he’s running the risk to say something along the lines of “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?/ It is the East, and Castiel is the sun.”

Not wanting to embarrass himself beyond any hope of reparation, he quickly replies with a simple “I do too,” before getting this conversation back on track. “The point is, not showering doesn’t make you any less important to me and I’m so fucking glad your lips are no longer blue that nothing else matters, honestly.”

Cas is clearly exhausted, but relaxed, when he replies “Thank you, Dean,” without ever leaving Dean’s chest.

Dean has to physically restrain himself from tightening his hold around him. He wishes he could keep Cas like this, safe in his arms, always. But he has to think about what Cas needs the most right now, so he reluctantly forces himself to say, “A hot shower can only do you good though. Go on, leave your clothes and anything you want washed out the door and I’ll take care of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me for the cliffhanger! 😅 After this Cas finally opens up about his situation, and it would have been a monster chapter. Plus, the point of view will be different, so I thought it was better to have two separate chapters. Silver lining, next week we'll finally hear Cas's truth, Dean will be even more caring than usual, and our boys will get even closer. Can't wait to be able to share it with you guys! I'm aiming for next Thursday 😘


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas shares the events of his past and Cas and Dean get even closer as a result.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, as usual, let me first of all thank you guys for the love. This fic means a lot to me and I'm SO happy many of you seem to like it as much as I hoped you would. 
> 
> Just a note about this chapter. In this one we see things from both POVs at the same time. I plan to write a fic with constantly switching POV, and I used this chapter to practice that and see if I could pull it off. It seemed the perfect opportunity, as this chapter is kinda pivotal and I felt seeing events from both of our boys' POV would help shed light on a number of important things. Let me know if you find it a mess or you can follow no problem? 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

‘I can’t believe I can feel my toes and fingers again’, Castiel keeps thinking while he’s drying his hair with a towel. This time he got really, really close to freezing to death. And he isn’t even being hyperbolic. Coming here was a decision made out of desperation. The cold was way too unforgiving tonight to be faced with just the clothes, blanket and sleeping bag he has. He wonders, not for the first time, where he’d be – _if_ he’d be at all – without Dean.

Dean, who is the best person he’s ever met, in the worst moment of his life. ‘Don’t get carried away, Castiel. You’re exhausted and not thinking clearly,’ his awful, mean, party-pooper of a brain has to underline. Then again, tonight has clearly shown – if there ever was any need – that Castiel not only wants but also desperately _needs_ Dean in his life. He can’t risk losing him over an unsolicited crush for the man. A man whose sexual orientation Castiel ignores. He’s been curious and curious to ask about any girlfriend or boyfriend he might have, but he doesn’t want to pry and he’s frankly afraid of the answer. Even though he knows there can’t be anything between himself and Dean, he might still have fantasized about living here with him, having a weekly planner for the chores equally split between the two of them on the fridge, going to bed snuggled close to him (‘much like you two just did,’ his awful, _mean_ brain quips. His brain isn’t as amusing as it thinks it is), cooking together, going grocery shopping together, fighting over who gets to control the remote controller. He’s fantasized about being Dean’s boyfriend, because he _wants_ to be Dean’s boyfriend. Knowing for certain that there’s a girlfriend or a boyfriend temporarily away for work that’s about to come back would take much of the fun away from those fantasies, which have lulled him to sleep more times than he can count.

Hence, ‘don’t get carried away, Castiel.’

Castiel hates it when his brain is right and his heart wrong.

He puts on his bathrobe, trying to suppress the feeling of belonging that inevitably surfaces when he sees it hanging next to Dean’s, and realizes it’s been washed since the last time he’s used it, as if Dean wants to be sure Castiel has everything he needs whenever he comes around, no matter what day of the week that is. He washes and has the bathrobe ready just in case. Castiel likes to think that means Dean wants him around as often as possible. The logical part of his brain supplies it’s just Dean being an incredibly nice and welcoming host. As the toothbrush in the cup by the sink, the sponge in the shower and the clothes to sleep in on the bed always demonstrate. Castiel likes to think of those things as his. He knows they aren’t. But they make him feel at home, much like Dean, when he thought he’d never feel like that again.

‘You’re doing a piss-poor job of not getting carried away, Castiel. Pull yourself back together, will you?’

Right. Time to go out and make sure Dean’s not annoyed with him for showing up like that. He didn’t really seem upset as much as worried, but Castiel can’t be sure. He was pretty out of it and it might very well be that the shock of seeing him like that had made Dean sprint into action, and forget about being pissed for the moment. But that might have changed while Castiel was in the shower, so he’s preparing himself to listen to a polite yet firm speech about not knocking on his door without an explicit invitation as he goes to the bedroom, where he knows he’ll find his pajamas even though Dean might be mad at him.

His pajamas aren’t waiting for him as usual though. Mainly because Dean seems to have just finished making the bed.

Oh, right. Castiel soiled the sheets with his dirty clothes. Of course Dean would change them. That only makes sense. Which doesn’t explain the deer caught in headlights expression on Dean’s face when he realizes Castiel is in the room.

“Don’t freak out please, this is still a no expectations arrangement, I promise, and if it makes you more comfortable _I_ will sleep on the couch, but considering how much cold you got tonight, I thought this could be a good thing. Um-, my brother and sis-in-law got me these plaid sheets for this bed for Christmas last year, and they are super soft and super warm, much more than cotton sheets, so I thought they’d be perfect for you tonight.”

Castiel is speechless, and his eyes start brimming as he replies, a little chocked up, “Thank you Dean. This is one of the nicest things someone’s ever done for me.”

Dean wonders if Cas knows that he breaks Dean’s heart a little every time he says things like that. What kind of people must Cas have been around so far? This is such a small thing, everyone would do the same, wouldn’t they? Well, according to Cas, no, they wouldn’t. Dean can only cast his eyes down as he replies, “It’s really nothing,” trying not to let the anger he feels at the injustice of Cas’s situation show on his face.

Dean is truly unbelievable and, Castiel suspects, he doesn’t even realize it. “It’s everything.”

And then they’re staring at each other like nothing else exists in the world. They do that a lot. Castiel hopes they’ll never stop. So does Dean.

Then Dean clears his throat. “Anyway, so, yeah, that’s your pajamas. It’s not your usual one.” Great, so first Dean let it slip that he’s given the man a nickname in his head and now that he thinks of the clothes he usually lends Cas as “his pajamas” too. Could he be any more obvious?? Oh well, extenuating circumstances, right? Cas has shown up at his doorstep on the verge of hypothermia. Dean has a right to be cut some slack. “Um, it-, this one’s a warmer one, the warmest I have. And if that’s OK with you, we can sleep here tonight. No funny business, I promise.” And now he can’t even control his face and avoid a smile that is so embarrassed it practically screams ‘the thought of sharing a bed with you is making me feel like a giggling teenager.’ Dean’s a lost cause. “Otherwise, um, I will sleep on the couch.”

“No, um, it’s OK if we both sleep here. I-, I trust you, Dean. Completely.” Only once he’s said it does Castiel realize how true that is. The first night he was terrified the man who had seemed so nice might turn out to be a sociopath who got off on luring in people in distress and taking advantage of them. Even though he had tried to rationalize he was being ridiculous, more than a few horrific scenarios had paid a visit to his mind. Now not only does he know Dean would _never_ do something like that to him or anyone else, he also wishes they _would_ get down to some funny business together. Which is just as ridiculous. As if. Dean wouldn’t slum like that even if he _was_ into men.

Dean’s heart feels so full hearing those words leave Cas’s mouth, the ‘right’, ‘right’, ‘right’ feeling an explosion of fireworks behind his ribcage. Cas trust him _completely_. Enough to make himself as vulnerable as possible and accept to share a bed with him. ‘No funny business buddy, remember you promised’ his head cautions. _Of course_ no funny business. Cas has been through enough today as is, the last thing he needs right now is for someone to try and get in his pant when he’s at his most vulnerable.

But Dean needs to at least suggest something else first. So he moves aside to let Cas see the tray on the bedside table behind him. “I, um, made you something quick to eat and drink.”

“Dean, you didn’t have-”

“Hey, it’s no trouble. And it’s not much, anyway. It’s-, um, just a couple of ham sandwiches, some fruit, and a relaxing tisane. That’s, um, something Jess suggested? Says it doesn’t contain I don’t know what that doesn’t have exciting properties like tea, so you can have it before bed and it won’t prevent you from sleeping but it helps you relax?”

If Castiel softens even more, he’ll turn into a ball of cotton candy. He’s literally stunned into speechlessness by Dean’s consideration and unwavering attention to details.

“It, I mean, seemed to make sense at the time?” He’s gone overboard as usual and now Cas thinks he’s an idiot because _of course_ the only thing he wants right now is to go to sleep.

“It does! It does, Dean. I’m sorry, I was just... speechless for a moment. You do all these little things, and they are so effortlessly thoughtful, and you don’t even seem to see it. And I-” Castiel clears his throat before he starts quoting Shakespeare or something equally embarrassing. So much for not getting carried away. “Thank you. Truly.”

“No, I mean, you don’t have to eat or drink anything, of course. I just though, you know, some calories and something warm could help?”

“And you’re right as usual. I haven’t eaten or drunk anything in I don’t even know how long.” Dean’s face falls as if that’s his own personal failure. It always does when Castiel says things like that. Which is why he tries to make sure not to say them. He‘s evidently more exhausted than he had originally thought. ‘Well, hypothermia will do that to you’, his brain supplies.

“So, um, I’d love to have something to eat. And something hot to drink would be amazing right now.”

The smile that earns him is so beautiful Castiel is speechless again for a couple of seconds. Then he remembers he’s supposed to be doing something, and tells Dean he’s gonna change in the bathroom before having dinner.

When he comes out again, Dean has him slide under the covers and puts the tray on his lap. “Dinner in bed?” Castiel asks with a grin. Dean’s smile in reply is a small, pleased one. This is not the first time Castiel’s noticed that. Dean is a nurturer. He loves taking care of others. If there is a girlfriend or boyfriend somewhere, they are immensely lucky.

Castiel eats and drinks everything, the food nutritious but not too heavy on his very empty stomach and the warm liquid simply heavenly. He feels much less cold immediately, even though he knows the thick, flannel pajamas he’s wearing and the many, many blankets Dean has put on the bed are more than a little responsible for that too.

Once he’s done, Dean takes the tray to the kitchen while Castiel gets up to quickly brush his teeth and relieve himself before bed. When they’re both back in the bedroom, Castiel having already slipped under the blankets, Dean hesitates for a moment on the threshold and asks “Do you, um, need anything else?”

“No Dean, I’m good. But, um, can we sleep now, please? It’s been a long day.”

Dean’s soft smile and whispered “of course” accompanies him while he turns on the bedside table lamp before killing all the other lights and heading back to the bed. He seems embarrassed when he gets under the covers. Castiel imagines this would be an embarrassing situation in any case. Sleeping with someone for the first time always is. Even more so if Dean’s straight. Castiel appreciates his open-mindedness regardless.

“Good night, Cas” is the last thing Castiel hears before the room gets completely dark.

Dean’s lying awake, unable to move, thinking that he won’t get a second of shut eye tonight with the man he’s desperately trying not to fantasize about lying next to him, when he hears something that sounds very much like a sob. He switches the bedside lamp on, turns around and sees a teary-eyed Cas trying to prevent himself from crying.

“Cas-“

“I’m sorry, this is stupid,” Cas says while hiding his face in his hands.

“No, no it isn’t. Whatever you’re feeling is not stupid. Wanna talk about it?”

“It’s just... These sheets are so soft, and so _warm_ , and it was so cold outside, I can’t believe I get to have this. I tried to sleep on the street, I swear I did, but it was so cold, so, so cold. I’m sorry I came here, I’m sorry, I tried not to, I didn’t want to disturb in case you were busy or had someone over-“

“- hey, no. I would _never_ turn you down. You have a home here whenever you want. I did pass by your spot before coming back home because I could tell tonight would be freezing outside, but you weren’t there, so I thought you were at the shelter.”

“I got there late because I helped a woman with a flat tire and there were no more beds.”

Dean must have misheard. “You... ended up without a place to stay to help someone else.”

“She was in trouble, Dean. It was late, and dark. I have seen what happens to people out there when they are in trouble and alone.”

Cas’s stubborn frown would be endearing, if Dean’s heart wasn’t squeezing and expanding simultaneously. This man is incredible, and he doesn’t even see it. “Did she at least offer to repay you somehow?”

“She did. I refused. I didn’t do it to be paid back, it was just the right thing to do.”

Incredible and he doesn’t even see it.

“Cas, man, you suck at being a hobo.”

Cas laughs, surprised. But he’s smiling, so Dean’ll take it.

“So they couldn’t place you at the shelter?”

“No, they were beyond full, and had even used all the sleeping bags and floor space available.”

Dean makes a mental note to check his garage in case he has any other sleeping bags to donate to the shelters in town, and to ask his family and friends to do the same. That reminds him that he also has to find out how to donate part of the very generous Christmas bonus his dad gave him to the shelter Cas sleeps at. He mentioned they don’t charge the homeless for a bed, so Dean figures the more private donations they get, the longer they’ll be able to keep doing that. 

“So you came back to your corner?”

“Yes,” Cas’s laugh is way too self-deprecating for Dean’s liking, “and I kept hoping against hope that something had held you up at work and you’d come to see me even though I assumed you already had.”

“Oh Cas. You should have come here right away.”

“I didn’t... wanna risk coming here unannounced and interrupt something. I can’t-, I can’t risk you being upset with me,” Cas adds, dropping his gaze and sounding incredibly defeated.

“Cas,” Dean says, as he can no longer restrain himself and keep his distance. He _needs_ to get closer to the wonderful man next to him and put his hands on each side of Cas’s neck to lock their eyes together. “I would _never_ be upset with you for coming to me when you need help. I _want_ to help. I’d let you live here while you get back on your feet if you accepted that. I already suggested it, remember? I heard what you said, and I respect that. But I’d hoped that my offer made it clear enough that my door is _always_ open for you.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” Cas’s eyes are so blue, so big, so honest, his red rims doing nothing to detract from their unreal beauty.

“You _deserve_ to have people who wanna be there for you. What you don’t deserve is to lead the hard life you are leading right now.”

Cas huffs another self-deprecating laugh. Dean _hates_ that sound.

“Well, maybe I do.”

Now Dean’s officially confused. “What do you mean, Cas?”

Cas looks at Dean straight in the eye. Dean knows that look. That’s Cas deciding if and what he should tell Dean.

Then he starts talking, and opens up about the reasons why he ended up on the street. He was fired from his job at an accounting firm. His boss hated him because the dude was a fucking homophobe, but Cas couldn’t prove it because he _had_ made the mistake his boss used as the perfect excuse to fire him. His trust in the judicial system led him to file a lawsuit, and that was a huge mistake. There wasn’t enough evidence to prove the charge of wrongful termination correct. This meant that not only didn’t Cas get his job back, but he also had to tap into his savings to pay a fortune in legal expenses. Even while the lawsuit was still on, he had started applying everywhere, but with the bad references, and with him having sued his previous boss, no one would hire him. His severely diminished savings were all he had to keep paying for the mortgage on his apartment and for food, so he had to start selling whatever he could, including his car, to keep a roof on his head and two meals a day in his belly for as long as possible. When it became clear all the bridges in his field were completely burned, he started applying for other jobs, but he didn’t have any experience – his former job being the only one he had ever done, straight out of college – or he was over-qualified, or too old. When the savings account got empty, he ended up on the streets. That was six months ago now – which prompts Dean to do the math and conclude that Cas had been homeless for a little less than three months when they met.

Being completely oblivious about the unspoken rules regarding life on the street, he ended up being robbed of the little cash he had on himself a few days after leaving his apartment for good, as well as of the few belongings he had packed. Following that, Cas had to learn how to survive as a homeless person with literally just the clothes he had on himself, which luckily included the jacket that’s kept him warm until he was given Dean’s blanket.

“Thank goodness they threw my wallet away once they emptied it, so I still have my ID and social security card, at least. And they only beat me until I gave up my stuff, but didn’t have more fun with me after that.”

Dean feels like crying, not for the first time since meeting this man, and he’s barely able to speak when he asks “Your friends? Family?”

“I didn’t have friends, I had colleagues, and they slammed the door in my face when I was fired. And my family...they live in another state, and my parents don’t want to have anything to do with me because I’m gay. I was terrified enough that I didn’t come out to them until a couple of years after finishing college, so they did pay for my education and I don’t have student loans to deal with on top of everything else, luckily. But, both of them and all our family friends literally shunned me after I refused to “repent for my sins and renounce my devilish inclinations”. As if I could just turn off the gay.”

Right, so Cas is gay. Cas is into men. Dean’s fine. Everything’s fine. This doesn’t change anything. Cas is still out of bounds.

“Well, screw them and their medieval attitude. You’ve got me now.”

Cas’s smile is the only reward Dean wants, and he’s elated when he gets it. But then Cas frowns and fixes his gaze on Dean’s chest rather than on his eyes.

“Don’t you think it was all my fault? If I had paid more attention at work, or if I was a better person that can form actual, meaningful relationships with friends and family-“

“Cas, no. Please, look at me?”

Cas’s deep sigh tells Dean he’s steeling himself for whatever might come.

The truth. That’s what’s about to come.

“That fucker of your boss was onto you because he’s a narrow minded, ignorant prick, and he would have found some shitty excuse sooner or later anyway. And the people in your life who didn’t take the time to really get to know you and appreciate you for who you are, and dropped the ball when you turned out to be different from the image they had of you, weren’t people you could have built any healthy, meaningful relationship with. Those who want you to be like _they_ want you to be _never_ are.”

Wow. Breathing is a marvelous thing. Dean should remember that next time he decides to give another long, heartfelt reply.

But Cas is smiling again and looking at him like he’s a superhero or something, so his lungs and their stupid need for oxygen can go fuck themselves.

“Thank you, Dean.”

Dean smiles in response, and then they’re staring at each other again. They really do that a lot. Cas is clearly fighting to keep his eyes open though, so Dean bids him goodnight and switches off the lamp before lying down again.

In the darkness and silence that follow, Cas whispers “Night, Dean. Thank you for everything.”

“You’re very welcome, Cas.”

Dean knows that Cas knows that Dean doesn’t need Cas to thank him. But Cas needs to, so Dean’ll take it every time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean takes matters into his own hands and has two very important conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna say I hope you have a chance to keep safe, and so do your loved ones. 
> 
> These are hard times for all of us. Social distancing isn't a joke, especially in the long term, and I am eternally grateful we have this platform where we can keep each other company. I hope everyone has the support they need. But if you need someone to talk to, or just wanna chat and fangirl/fanboy over our ship, I'm here. Hit me in the comment section & we'll find a way to chat privately. 
> 
> As usual, thanks for all the love you are giving this fic and me. I appreciate each and everyone of you so, so much.

Dean’s walking to work, the freezing early morning air helping him get alert and alert, and thinking about the plan that’s been forming in his head.

Truth be told, Dean’s been thinking about it for some time now, ever since Meg quit unexpectedly and left them to fend for themselves. He’s thought about suggesting it to Cas a couple of times before, but he was afraid of overstepping way more than their still young friendship could survive to.

Now, though, now he’s not gonna let that stop him. Cas could have died last night. Because he doesn’t have a home. And he doesn’t have a home because he can’t pay for one. Because he lost everything he had, because he’s been incredibly unlucky, and has been surrounded by monsters rather than humans all his life.

Dean’s been thinking about what Cas told him last night non-stop. No wonder Cas never really opened up with somebody enough to form strong relationships. When you know the very people who made you and raised you wouldn’t be able to accept you for who you truly are, you realize early on you better hide the part of yourself that wouldn’t be welcome. And people around you pick up on that. When you hide, you’re always controlled, never let yourself go, not truly. And others can feel you’re keeping them at arm’s length. And they do the same.

Well, that’s no longer gonna be the case. Cas _has_ opened up with Dean. They are getting to know each other, really getting to know each other. Dean cares for Cas. He really does. Regardless of the attraction he feels for him, which Dean is kinda resigned will never go away, he’s growing attached to the man. Not what’s outside. What’s _inside_. Cas is a good man, who’s never known unconditional acceptance. And has developed the certainty that no one will ever truly want him for who he is and he needs to do everything on his own, because no one will ever be there to help, as a consequence.

Not like Dean, who came out to his parents and siblings one day at dinner when he was sixteen, saying “I think I have a crush on the new quarterback. Do you think it’s weird, since he’s one year younger than me?” and only got a long speech from his mom about how what matters is someone’s heart, not their age or social status, as a reply. His dad didn’t even bother giving his two cents – he kept stuffing his face and only hummed in agreement once or twice – while his siblings were delighted to be able to make fun of him singing “Dean and Mark, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g.” And that was that.

Ever since that day, Dean’s been free to date all the boys he’s wanted, his parents and his siblings only ever worried about them being good for Dean, not about them being men. And Dean’s always known, ever since he and Sammy got adopted, that he didn’t need to do anything on his own anymore. That he had a family who would help and support him, always. And then he met Charlie. And his family got even bigger and more solid and supportive. Dean knows that plays a major role in making him a happy, healthy, privileged person, and that it’s helped him develop a deep-rooted awareness of the fact that he’s not alone, that he’s loved and that, even though he’s far from flawless, he’s worthy. He’s not perfect. But he’s worthy. Of love, of appreciation, of happiness. Dean doesn’t truly believe a person’s self-worth depends on others. But he’s also very aware that having people who love you and stand by you no matter what is fundamental for its development, especially at a young age. He’s proof of that. He knows he didn’t have any when they were still with his biological father, and has started to develop his sense of self-worth only after Bobby and Ellen adopted them. And it took him a couple years to get there.

So it’s not difficult to see how the same applies to Cas. “If I was a better person,” Cas had said the previous night. Never knowing acceptance in your life, especially when you’re a kid, cannot but convince you, in the long run, that you’re a shitty person, and are wired wrong.

Dean’s determined to help change that any way he can. Starting with showing Cas that he doesn’t have to solve every problem alone. That Dean’s more than happy and ready to help. And it’s not like Dean is gonna force Cas into accepting his plan either. He’s just gonna give him the option, and let Cas decide. He really hopes he’ll say yes though.

Before doing that, however, he needs to talk to his dad and see if he’s onboard. It’s his business after all.

At least, Dean’s not gonna be worried about Cas’s wellbeing while he’s busy making his case with his dad. He’s obtained the promise that Cas won’t leave the house today and will stay tonight too. At first Cas was super resistant, saying he couldn’t possibly stay there while Dean wasn’t at home, that it was inappropriate and shit. Dean had to remind him that he’d been there a few times already, and that if he’d wanted to rob Dean he could have done it more than once by now. The image of Cas, safe and warm, wearing his usual pajamas after his morning shower and lying on the couch with a novel in one hand, a mug of hot tea in the other, a blanket over his lap and a relaxed expression on his face accompanies Dean to work and makes him smile.

The smile slips away, however, when he realizes he’s in front of the body shop. He knows his dad won’t be thrilled. The arguments with Sam have made Dean realize they are all wary of Cas. They don’t think he’s good for Dean, that he’s not interested in Dean as a person, but only as the owner of the hotel where he gets full board for free whenever he wants. Dean’s so mad about that. He can see where they’re coming from. They love him and want to protect him. But they seem to have condemned them without even bringing them to trial first. Cas is taking advantage and Dean is too weak to say no. Dean supposes his weakness for a couple of bad boys in the past has a lot to do with that conclusion. But Dean’s grown up since then. He’s learned from those experiences. He’s not making the same mistakes here. Yet he knows that’s exactly what his family are worried about, and here Dean is, about to ask his dad to facilitate Cas’s presence in Dean’s life becoming even more permanent. Dean’s gonna have to play his cards right if he doesn’t want his dad to get mighty pissed at him and give himself a stroke in the process.

“Hi Dad. You have a minute?”

“Sure Son. Everything OK?”

There it is. Bobby’s fatherly protective instincts kicking in at the drop of a hat. Dean doesn’t envy anyone who Bobby Singer considers a real threat to any member of his family.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s good. I have, um, something to ask you.”

“Okay?”

“Ever since Meg quit her job at the front office we’ve got swamped and swamped, wouldn’t you agree?”

Dad sighs. He totally knows what’s Dean aiming for. Granted, the man raised him, but when did Dean become so transparent?!

“I know, Son. You’re right. We need to find someone to hire. And soon.”

Or maybe not. That’s not the turn Dean was expecting this conversation to take, but he’s not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

“I’m glad you agree. Because I think I know someone who might fill in the position.”

“Who?” _Now_ Dad’s starting to put two and two together, if the suspicion on his face is any indication. No point in beating around the bush then.

“Cas.”

“I thought his name was Jimmy?”

“Dad, we’ve been through that. I told you why he lied.”

“Yeah, yeah, you did. A pretty convenient sob story that one.”

Scratch not making Dad mad. It’s _Dean_ the one who’s pissed now.

“It wasn’t a sob story, _Dad_ ,” Dean spits, only to regret his tone the moment he sees the hurt flashing over Dad’s face. Dean owes this man everything. He’s saved him. More importantly, he’s saved Sammy. Dean owes it to him to try and make him see his point without sounding like an ungrateful brat.

He takes a deep breath and tries again. “Look, Dad. I know you’re worried about me. And so is Mom, and the rest of your children. I know. You only want to protect me. That’s what you and Mom only ever wanted. But I promise you, Cas is a good man, and he’s good for me.”

That earns him a confused, alarmed “Are you two...?”

“No, no. It’s not like that. I wouldn’t take advantage of him any more than he would me. But he’s my friend. And-“

He’s about to start crying in front of Dad after more than a decade, isn’t he?

“What, Son?”

“It could have been us, Dad. Sammy and me. If you and Mom hadn’t adopted us, who knows what would have happened. We’d have probably been separated, going from foster home to foster home, only to be spit out of the system at 18. And,” gosh but Dean’s becoming a pro at speaking through the lump in his throat, “you and Mom taught me what matters is someone’s heart, not their social status. And he has a good heart. He’s just been very unlucky. Please help me giving him a second chance. Sammy and I got one. He deserves one too.”

As it turns out, Dad’s the one who ends up crying in front of Dean for the first time ever, a single tear slipping out from his very misty eyes.

Dad clears his throat and doesn’t even try to hide the fact he’s drying his cheek with his hand before he asks, “Does he know how to do the job at least?”

Relief floods Dean. And then dread. He’s gonna have to tell him at least some of Cas’s story, even though it’s not his story to tell.

“He does. He’s had a job at an accounting firm for a few years.”

“Then how...?”

There it is.

“He,” Dean sighs, knowing his dad won’t like this part any more than Dean does. “He got fired on some bullshit grounds because his boss is a homophobe. And hasn’t found another job since.”

“Son of a bitch.”

That makes Dean smile in spite of the heavy topic. “My thoughts exactly.”

“OK. Bring him here tomorrow morning. He messes up, it’s your ass on the line, boy. We clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

With that, his dad pats him on the shoulder and nods his head before telling him to scram and to go make him some money.

Dean spends the whole day working as hard as he can and in the best of moods, so much so even his colleagues pick up on that and asks him if he’s plotting some prank or something, because he’s never this cheerful. Dean should probably take offense that his colleagues think him capable of being in a happy mood only when he’s plotting their demise, but that’s true more often than not, so he lets it slide.

As he’s going back home, the bright mood starts giving way to anxiety. Dean knows the news he’s bringing is _good_ news, for all intent and purposes. But what if Cas doesn’t see it that way, for some reason? What if he sees it as Dean trying to control him? Or change him? Or-.

E-n-o-u-g-h.

No point in working himself into a panic. He just needs to get home, tell Cas the news, and accept whatever decision he makes. Time to remind himself, not for the first time, that Dean is a supporting character in Cas’s story, not the main lead.

When he walks through the door, a delicious smell welcomes him.

The sight of Cas, still in his pajamas, cooking dinner for them is just as delicious. And heartwarming. Dean wishes he could come back to this every night. Well, if he plays his cards right for the second time today...

“Heya, Cas.”

That smile will never not be supremely beautiful. “Hello, Dean.”

And they are lost into staring and smiling at each other again. Dean really likes it when they do it.

“So, I-. I made dinner. As a thank you. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Of course not! I mean, you didn’t have to. But I can’t say I’m not happy you did.”

“Good.” Cas’s smile has turned pleased. And the idea that Cas might be pleased because he has pleased Dean is doing things to Dean he actively has to suppress.

“Ehm, but, um, can we talk, before dinner?”

Cas’s shoulders tense immediately and Dean berates himself. ‘Great job, Dean.’

As much as he’s spent the whole day wishing he could just talk to Cas, he could have told him over dinner. And he could have certainly led with something other than “can we talk”. Facepalming at himself wouldn’t be a winning move, would it? Because Dean kinda wants to do that right now.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. It’s actually good news. And I can’t wait to share it with you,” Dean tries to amend, adding a bright, reassuring smile for good measure.

Cas relaxes immediately, and curiosity takes the place of worry. “Okay?”

“So, um, you know I work at my dad’s body shop, right?”

“Yes.”

“And, well, the person who worked at the front office quit without any explanation or so much as a day’s notice.”

“That’s very unprofessional.”

It’s clear Cas can’t see what any of this has to do with any good news Dean might want to share with him. There’s not even a trace of hope on his face. He’s not even considering the possibility Dean might have put in a good word for him. So much for taking advantage of Dean.

“It is. And, well, we’re getting swamped. She used to make appointments and handle the whole logistical aspect of the body shop, from answering the phone and welcoming clients to reminding my dad about orders and deliveries. This has always allowed us to focus on our job, and now we need to stop doing what we’re doing to go answer the phone every so often, among other things, and it’s fucking annoying.”

“I’m sorry this person’s lack of respect is putting you all through a stressful time.”

Cas is too good for his own good.

“Thank you, Cas. But, um, the thing is. My dad needs to hire someone else. And soon. And, well, I suggested you could take the job? He said it’s yours if you want it, and you can start tomorrow.”

The shock on Cas’s face is blinding, and the silence deafening.

“You...? He....?”

“You don’t have to accept, if you don’t want to,” Dean hastens to add. Cas needs to understand this is not a condition for them to stay friends. He’s not gonna be like every other person in Cas’s life, who’s only stayed as long as Cas respected the conditions they had set up. No. Dean’s offered Cas unconditional friendship. And he’s gonna take Cas in whatever shape and form he comes along.

“It’s not a super interesting job, Cas, and it won’t make you rich. But it’s something, and it’s yours, if you want it.”

“Yes, yes! It’s-. Thank you, Dean. I-, I can’t believe this.” Cas’s eyes start filling with tears he doesn’t even try to stop and his hands go to grip the edge of the kitchen counter, not doubt for support.

“I will work super hard, I swear, I won’t let your dad or you down, I promise!”

“I know you won’t,” Dean replies, unable to keep the emotion out of his own voice. “But, ehm, he asked me if you had any previous experience and I said yes, and when he asked why you were fired I couldn’t lie to him, Cas. I told him about your ex-boss being a homophobic prick.”

Cas’s guarded again. “And, um, how-, how did he take it?”

“Not well.”

“Dean, if your dad has a problem with my sexual orientation I don’t thin-“

“What? No! He wasn’t pissed about _that_. I mean, if he doesn’t have a problem with me being queer, he certainly doesn’t have one with his employees. No. He was pissed at your boss.”

Cas seems... stunned? Frozen on the spot? What-?

Oh.

This is the first time the topic of Dean being gay has come up. ‘Danger, danger, danger, abort, abort, abort!’

“Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I had to tell him. I’m sorry, I know it wasn’t my story to tell, but I can’t lie to my old man. And, I mean, since he’s hiring you, he kinda has a right to know about your work experience and why you can’t give him any references, so.”

Dean cannot keep on rambling for much longer. It would be just great if Cas could do him a solid and _say something_.

“No, I. I know. And it’s OK, Dean. You did the right thing. No point in starting this new adventure with a lie.” Cas’s smile seems sincere, although still a little shocked, and Dean starts feeling better right away.

“And, well, I mean, it’s up to you to decide, of course. But I was thinking, with a new job, and a front office one to boot, it’d be better if you had a place to stay at. You know, sleep soundly every night, take a shower every morning. And you, um, could… stay here? If you wanted? At least at first?”

“Stay here? Every day? Live here, with you?”

Dean can only nod in reply and offer the most sincere, reassuring smile he can master. He doesn’t want to pressure the guy. But he also really wants him to stay.

Cas’s eyes start filling again. “I don’t,” the poor man needs to clear his throat twice before speaking, and he’s still choked up when he says “I don’t have to sleep on the street tomorrow?”

Dean can physically feel the pain that question has arisen in him. “No, Cas. Not tomorrow, not _ever_ again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter up on Tuesday. These two morons will FINALLY do something about all that pining and UST :-D
> 
> See you next week :-*


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas get used to their new routine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are my lovelies, the last but one week of posting. I can't believe we're almost there. Next week the last chapter and epilogue. Thank you all, so, so much, for the love you've given the fic along the way. I hope you know how important your support is. 
> 
> As usual, I hope you enjoy this and hope you and your loved ones are keeping safe, wherever you are.

Getting ready for work is madness.

They realize that, with just one shower, they’ll have to coordinate better in the future if they are to be ready on time. ‘If you showered together...’, Dean’s treacherous, bad, bad brain suggests. Dean stops that train of thought before it leaves the station.

In the end, they still manage to be fairly on time. Cas is dressed in Dean’s clothes, but has given up on combing his hair. Apparently, the homeless life wasn’t the problem for Cas’s hair. The problem for Cas’s hair is Cas’s hair itself.

‘You could run your fingers through it, see if you can help.’ Dean’s brain is clearly full of ideas this morning. Dean hopes it will just _shut up_ so he doesn’t end up doing something that might have Cas running for the hills not even 12 hours after officially moving in.

Since they aren’t exactly early, they decide to drive to the body shop instead of walking, to avoid being late and having Cas make a very bad first impression.

By the time they get there, Cas has turned into a human statue. He’s started talking less and less the further away from the house they got, and spent the last few minutes of the trip sitting ramrod straight, fidgeting and looking straight ahead. Dean has tried to take his mind off of things for the first couple of minutes, but has given up and let him be for the rest of the ride. He knows that having and maintaining social relationships is just another skill one needs to develop and practice in time, and he supposes that Cas might feel his “people’s skills” must be rusted, after spending months without having had anything more significant than brief instrumental conversations once or twice a day. He deserves the time and space to think about what’s happening and get ready for it.

Still, Dean can’t help but put a hand on Cas’s shoulder and squeeze a bit to attract his attention before they leave the safety of his beloved car and remind him “It’s gonna be fine, Cas. You’re not alone, I’m right here by your side.”

That earns him a relieved “Thank you, Dean,” and a number of small cues in his body language that make Dean understand Cas has relaxed a tiny bit. Dean doesn’t think he could have hoped for better than this.

As they enter the building, they find his dad already waiting for them. ‘Great. He’s gonna go all Alpha male of the pack on Cas and scar him for life,’ Dean can’t help but muse. Again, he doesn’t think he could have hoped for anything different. Dad will do what Dad does. It’s up to Cas to face that and stand his ground.

“Son. Castiel.”

‘Wow. His full name. I’m surprised he hasn’t called me Dean Michael Winchester Singer.’

“Good morning, Dad.”

“Mr. Singer.”

Ouch. Dean should have told Cas about his dad’s dislike for titles. Then again, if Cas had gone with “Bobby”, he might have sounded like an entitled jerk who knows he’s got the support of the boss’s son, so maybe that’s actually for the best.

“My boy here tells me you’re a hard worker.”

“I am, Sir.”

“It’s Bobby, none of that Sir bullshit around here.”

Dad giving Cas explicit permission to get on first-name terms is a good thing right?

“Yes, Si-. Bobby. Yes, Bobby.”

Cas sure can’t help but be an oversized adorable puppy 90% of times. Dad doesn’t really know how to smile, not with his mouth, but those are his smiley eyes, so Dean takes that as a huge win.

“Very well. Welcome to Singer’s body shop. I’ll let my son show you the ropes. Holler if you need anything.”

If Dad just pissed on Dean, he would save everyone’s time at this point. Cas cannot have missed that Dean is “his boy” and “his son” as well as the not so implicit “you hurt him, I will dismantle you like I dismantle the cars in here.”

‘Don’t think about Cas dismantling you, Dean, don’t go there,’ his brain advises when it’s already too late. _Definitely_ full of ideas this morning, his brain.

“I will. Thank you, Bobby.”

And that’s the beginning of what becomes their new routine.

Cas and Dean go to work together and come back home together. They spend their lunch period together and with their co-workers, and Cas starts getting along with all of them, including Bobby, whose soft eyes when he looks at Cas when he thinks no one is looking make Dean understand he’s more than warmed up to him.

Dean’s forced to start getting up earlier than usual. Not only because they both need to use the shower, but because his showers are getting longer and longer. He’s falling harder and harder for Cas, but he doesn’t dare make a move because he doesn’t want Cas to feel obliged to reciprocate. So jerking off in the shower to thoughts of all the things he wishes they could do together it is. As guilty as it makes him feel to come by his hand every morning while thinking of Cas pushing him against the tile wall from behind and whispering what a tight ass he has and how much he enjoys fucking it, Dean tells himself that letting off some steam is still better than making an unwanted and unsolicited move on Cas because he’s sexually frustrated.

For his part, Cas is more than determined to not take more advantage of Dean than strictly necessary. So when Dean suggests he could buy Cas some clothes for the first few days at work, Cas counter suggests that Dean might keep lending him some, as they are mainly the same size, until he gets his first paycheck. Dean almost has a stroke at the thought of Cas in his clothes again and again, since apparently he has a possessive kink a mile long that gets activated right away when his clothes are on the man, but it’s not like he can say no without it being suspicious (‘Try obvious…’) as hell. Cas seems extremely pleased when Dean agrees and seems to love to choose what clothes to wear in the morning while Dean is in the shower. Doing naughty things based on even naughtier thoughts.

Once his paychecks start getting in, Cas starts buying his own clothes, the warmer the better, and buying food for breakfast too. It’s too soon for him to be able to contribute more than that, but he’s dead set on doing his part, and breakfast is affordable – just milk, coffee and cereals over the week, and eggs or pancakes and bacon over the weekend, when they aren’t in a rush to go to work. That was one hell of an awkward conversation too. When Dean listed what they needed for breakfast Monday to Friday and then con Saturday and Sunday, Cas replied “But the first time I ever slept here was a Wednesday, and we had pancakes and bacon the following morning for breakfast”. Dean still hopes, to this day, that the surge of heat he felt because of how embarrassed he was to have been called out like that didn’t translate in a flamingo-pink blush, but he’s pretty sure it did. “Yeah, well, those were special circumstances, you know. Had to make sure you’d eat something nutritious with how rarely you used to eat,” he replied intelligently. The softening of Cas’s eyes in response made him hope the man took it as Dean being charitable, rather than Dean totally trying to woo him with his breakfast making skills. Dean had just realized he had a crush on the man, OK? Sue him for wanting to show off a little. 

Cas also does half the chores around the house and insists on having a weekly planner on the fridge for them to be equally split between him and Dean. Dean doesn’t really think they need one – they could just decide as they go – but somehow that seems very important to Cas. He spends long minutes filling it in with a (‘totally cute’) concentrated frown at the end of every week, so Dean goes along with it, because of course he does. Saying no to Cas isn’t exactly the most refined of his talents.

Cooking together and doing grocery shopping together seem important to Cas too, so much so Dean feels dirty if he even entertains the idea of doing either thing on his own for even a second. So, of course, they always cook together and do grocery shopping together.

And they _always_ fight over who gets to control the remote controller. Like, Cas seems to _want_ them to fight over it and he even instigates it on purpose sometimes. Again, Dean doesn’t give much of a fuck about what’s on TV, but Cas always seems so happy when they have one of their little battles to decides who gets to choose what they watch that night, so Dean’s always ready to oblige and is even starting to find it amusing too. Needless to say, Cas wins 90% of times and Dean’s OK with that.

On one such night, they are fighting over the remote controller like their life is at stake, until they end up slumped on the couch, panting as they’re holding one end of the remote each, and staring at each other.

They do that a lot.

But it’s especially charged tonight.

Maybe it’s because of that, or because Dean is weak, or because he’s _so_ tired of suppressing his feelings for this wonderful man, but he does something he always tries not to do. He lowers his gaze to Cas’s lips.

Cas is on him in a second.

His hands cup Dean’s neck and yank him forward to press their mouths together. Dean’s stunned for a moment. Then he realizes ‘Cas is kissing me! _Finally_ ’. And then he does what he’s wanted to do for months. He throws the remote somewhere and surges forward, his hands going for Cas’s neck and back. Cas groans and gets even closer to him, and Dean grabs the chance to slide his tongue inside Cas’s mouth. He’s kissing the forbidden fruit, and the forbidden fruit is kissing him back just as eagerly. He’s almost having an out of body experience, that’s how absolutely indescribable it all feels right now. He can’t believe he’s finally, finally tasting Cas. The man tastes like his own toothpaste, and it shouldn’t be such a turn on, except it totally is. Just further proof that Cas is here, he’s staying, with Dean, and doesn’t seem to want to go away any time soon. That was the biggest of Dean’s fears when he offered Cas a roof above his head when Dad hired him. That he’d have to see Cas go when he’d find his own place. But Cas doesn’t even seem to be looking for one, and, with this new development, maybe he never will?

While Dean’s torn between his thoughts and the incredible feeling of Cas’s tongue sliding against his own, of his soft lips against his, of his quickening breath on his face and of his hands keeping a secure hold on Dean’s neck, Cas gets tired of letting Dean dominate the kiss. He plants a knee on the cushion and starts bending forward, which causes Dean to start lying back.

He’s lying on his couch and Cas is on top of him, his tongue insistent inside of his mouth, his hands firm yet careful against his body. When Cas sneaks his hands behind his back and grabs his ass while also pushing his own body more firmly on top of Dean’s, their erections rub against each other, and it’s pure bliss for a moment.

Then it’s not.

It’s like an ice bucket.

Dean has a question he absolutely needs to ask before he can let any of this go any further.

“Cas, wait-“

And Cas does. He freezes on the spot. His hands leave Dean body right away, to go rest on either side of his chest and allow Cas to start pushing himself up, away from Dean, while his face starts the process of closing off Dean has become extremely familiar with by now.

As Cas starts saying “Dean, I’m sorry, I thought-“, Dean interrupts him. He can’t risk Cas thinking this is something it isn’t. But he can’t risk thinking this is something it isn’t either. He needs to be sure. He’s an idiot like that. ‘Or a _good_ man,’ his mom’s voice corrects in his head.

He loops his arms around Cas’s shoulders to prevent him from putting too much distance between them. He doesn’t want Cas to think that’s what he wants. He _doesn’t_ want that.

“Please, don’t misunderstand. I want this. I want _you,_ Cas, so bad, I have for a long time now. But, um, please tell me you want this too. Want _me_. That you aren’t doing this out of gratitude? I-, I could never take advantage of you like that. I only want this if you want it too.” Please let Cas want him for _him_ , not for what he’s _done_ for him.

Cas’s face passes from concern to shock to relief to softness in a matter of seconds. One of his hands goes to cup the side of Dean’s face, cradling it as if it was something precious, touching it as reverently as one would touch the finest Venetian glass. His eyes bore into Dean’s, so intense they’re almost glowing, and his smile is indulgent, as if he can’t believe the words that just left Dean’s mouth.

“Dean, I have _never_ wanted anything or anyone so fucking much in my life.”

The ensuing silence is intentional, Dean knows. And so is Cas swearing for the first time ever.

It’s all meant to let the words sink in.

So Dean does what he knows he’s supposed to be doing. He stays silent too, eyes locked with Cas’s, and lets those words do the job they’re meant to do. Lets them sink to his very core. Lets them convince him Cas is 150% on board.

“Don’t get me wrong, I _am_ grateful. More than I can ever put into words and more than you will _ever_ know. And your big, your _huge_ , heart and unparalleled generosity were the first things I came to appreciate about you.” His smile is less indulgent and softer now, as if he’s remembering something nice happened in the past. Dean hopes it’s something that involved him somehow. “But I am not doing this because I owe you, or to repay your kindness. I’m doing this because I want _you_. You, Dean. Just you. Exactly the way you are. Because you are as stunning inside as you are outside, and I want you so much it hurts.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because! I can’t still wrap my mind around the fact that someone like _you_ might ever want someone like _me_. And I-, I couldn’t risk you rejecting me. Not when I am starting to regain a tiny scrap of self-worth.”

If he could, Dean would make every single person who’s ever done anything, big or small, to make Cas believe he’s not worthy of love and adoration line up, and then punch every single one of them in the face. Hard.

“You’re _amazing_ , Cas. So strong, so resilient, so beautiful, inside and out, in spite of all the bad things which happened to you. How could I not want you?”

Cas doesn’t reply, just stares at Dean for a few seconds, until his face softens a bit. Dean supposes honesty is hard to hide.

Then he takes a deep breath and asks, “Ok, how do you wanna do this?”

Dean doesn’t even need to think before he replies, “I want you inside of me.”

That clearly shocks Cas. Dean doesn’t know if that’s because of what he said, or because of how readily he said it. Dean’s been thinking about that a lot and has just made it crystal clear how _often_ he’s thought about it. So what? He’s about to lay himself bare to this man completely. And Dean’s not one to do things half-assed.

“You... you sure?”

“Yeah. Unless-“

“No, no. That’s, um. I want that too, Dean. So much. So, _so_ much. It’s just... you’d really let me get inside of you like that?”

Dean can’t help an indulgent smile of his own. “You got inside of me months ago, Cas. This would just make it official.”

Cas’s smile, on his lips and in his eyes, is as fond as it can get, and the hand still cupping Dean’s face caresses it gently. “Oh, Dean.”

“I’ll take it as a yes?”

“Yes.”

“Then take me to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know that's meany! Please don't be mad at me? Somehow the sex scene turned out to be thousands of words, and I didn't want to have to rush through it, so I had to split the whole thing into two chapters. I hope it will be a consolation to know that the last chapter is the longest in the fic, and that I hope the cavity sweetness of the epilogue will make up for this week's cliffhanger :-D  
> See you on Monday next week :-*


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After so much pining, our boys finally get together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the final chapter. 
> 
> The epilogue will be posted soon after this. 
> 
> I am sad to see this fic come to an end, incredibly happy to have managed to finish it, and extremely grateful for all the love and nice words and thoughts you have shared with me along the way. It's been absolutely amazing to be able to share this with you. 
> 
> Wherever you are, I hope you are doing as good as possible and are keeping safe. I send each and everyone of you a big, tight hug. We couldn't give each other one if we were in the same room right now, but nothing can stop us from hugging each other here. And I'm hugging each and everyone of you super tight. Thank you for taking this journey with me, I'll never forget it.

Leading Dean by the hand through the door of his bedroom is surreal.

The bed, which Castiel has seen dozen of times by now, has never seemed so big. What if-. What if Dean doesn’t like it, what if I hurt him, what if I don’t remember what to do, what if-

“You’re thinking too loud, Cas.” A pair of hands cupping his face and of green eyes looking at him adoringly go a long way to slow down the beating of his heart. “Relax, it’s OK. We don’t have to do anything, you know? We could just lie down, make out a little and fall asleep together, and I’d be more than happy.”

“But you said-“

“I know what I said. But we don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready yet. I never want you to feel pressured, Cas. I just wanna feel close to you. We don’t have to go all the way for that.”

“But I want to.”

“You sure?”

“I am.”

“Then what got you so worried?”

“It’s been a while, Dean. I don’t know that I can make this good for you. What if-“

“Hey, hey, look at me. We’re a team, right? We do this together. This is not on you. It’s on _us_. We’re here for each other, right?”

“Yes, we are.”

“Then, how about we just...lie down and do what feels good? No pressure, no targets. Just you and me and what feels good.”

“I’d like that.”

This time it’s Dean that leads Castiel by the hand, until they sit down on the side of the bed, their bodies angled towards each other. Dean cups his face with a hand and thumbs along his cheek as he says, “Relax, Cas. It’s just you and me.”

He starts leaning forward and Castiel can only meet him halfway. And thank his lucky star that he ever got to meet this man and he now gets to kiss his beautiful lips.

‘Just think of this, Castiel. Focus on his lips.’ His brain does offer good suggestions on occasion. So Castiel does. He lets every other thought go, and just focuses on _feeling_. Feeling Dean’s lips against his, and enjoying how they seem to be much less in a hurry than before. They are just exchanging close-mouthed kisses, turning their heads left and right and then left and then right in perfect sync, a few of those kisses actually landing on the side of their mouths, or on their chins. It’s like the desperation from before is gone, and only the knowledge that they can take their time, that none of them is going anywhere, or changing their minds, remains.

For a moment there, when Dean asked Castiel to stop while they were on the couch, Castiel thought that desperation had been the biggest mistake of his life. He was terrified that doing what he had done, towering over Dean like that and basically forcing him to sprawl down for him, had made Dean mad and given him the impression that Castiel was only interested in fucking him and was simply taking it for granted that Dean would put out.

He could almost taste the _relief_ when Dean’s words registered and he realized that was not what that was at all. And he can’t honestly blame himself too much for behaving like that either. After weeks, months, spent pining for Dean, getting to finally kiss him had been heavenly.

But Castiel can’t, in all honesty, say that he doesn’t like what they are doing now even more. This slow, exploratory dance of their mouths and hands. This light brushing of lips and fingers. It’s unhurried. The consequence of them having time. Having time to do what they want, and only what they want. There’s no pressure, no expectations, none of them will be gone tomorrow if they don’t get to the finish line tonight. Only now is Castiel realizing that really was the source of his fear earlier. Bless Dean for catching up on it and removing it with just a few words. This man is truly unbelievable. Castiel has made peace with the fact that the evidence of that will simply keep piling up.

When Dean breaks the kiss to lock their eyes together while bringing his hands to the top button of Castiel’s shirt, Castiel can only nod in confirmation.

They start shedding clothes then, each of them helping the other. And they kiss, slowly, lightly, tenderly, the naked skin that appears with each article of clothing that is removed.

Dean is gorgeous. Castiel absolutely adores the little pudge on his belly he referred to the first time they met, when Dean told him he had decided to start walking to and back from work. Castiel is so grateful it’s still there as he takes the opportunity to kiss it, after having familiarized with Dean’s neck, and shoulders and chest, and having even licked those delicious nipples, and enjoyed every single response this beautiful man has gifted him with.

Their pants get shed too, and Castiel loves to see how they’re both hard in their boxers. He knows he’s getting impatient again, but he honestly can’t spend as much time on Dean’s lower body as he did with his upper body. Not when Dean’s hips and cock are so close to be finally revealed to him. He’s gonna give Dean’s feet and legs and thighs all the attention they deserve next time – if he’ll be granted the privilege to have Dean like this again. But he can’t restrain himself now, he needs to see those boxers go.

As he’s about to remove them, however, Dean stops him with a hand on his wrist. “Cas, I need-“

Castiel stops what he’s doing immediately and gives Dean his undivided attention. “Anything, Dean.”

Dean takes a deep breath and looks at Cas, determined. “Before we go on, I need to make sure we’re on the same page. I mean, I think I know the answer. I _hope_ I know the answer. But I gotta ask.”

“Okay?”

“This is not a one-time thing for me, Cas. But, um, I don’t want us to be fuck buddies either. I’m not just attracted to you, even though you’re hot as fuck. I-“ Dean gulps and casts his eyes down, “I’m in love with you, Cas. I want us to be together. And if you don’t feel the same, I’d like to know now, before we have sex.”

Castiel didn’t dare hope Dean might feel for him what he feels for Dean. But he does. He just said so. How is this possible? When did this happen? And, more importantly, how could Castiel have missed all the signs?

The same way Dean missed them, apparently. Because they were two goddamn idiots totally falling for each other but afraid to make the first move, each of them for their own reasons. Which were valid then, but seem so _stupid_ now.

Castiel is stunned. “You...love me?”

“I do,” Dean replies with the same determination, only betrayed by the working of his Adam’s apple as he swallows what Castiel is sure is fear. Dean’s afraid Castiel might not love him back, but he’s still putting himself out there like this. Dean’s so strong. Castiel’s in awe of him. And can only repay that strength with a show of strength of his own.

“I love you too, Dean. So much. This isn’t just sex for me either. You aren’t just a beautiful body and a stunning face. You’re the man of my dreams, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes get soft and shiny as he tries to prevent his tears from falling. He smiles the sweetest smile, swallows again and asks, “Make love to me?”

Castiel can only bend down and kiss him, to show him with his lips and tongue how much he wants to make love to him, to show him that the love he feels for him is certain, and strong, and honest.

His hand goes for Dean’s briefs again and this time he lifts his hips a bit to help Castiel take them off, while at the same time bringing his own hands to Castiel’s boxers to start pulling them down. Castiel helps him after he’s got rid of Dean’s and then they are both naked. Finally.

Castiel lies on top of Dean, like he did on the couch. And Dean spreads his legs wide to welcome him. This _is_ heaven. With a complete absence of clothes, they both can feel how incredible it is when their erections slide together for the first time, and both grunt into their kiss.

Before he gets too carried away though, Castiel needs to do the responsible thing. This man is his to love and protect now, and it all starts here.

Reluctantly, he breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to Dean’s.

“Love, where are the lube and condoms?”

Dean’s clearly trying to slow down his breathing and force his brain to cooperate enough to form words. “That bedside table, top drawer. But, um, I’m clean, so-“

“Believe me, I wouldn’t want anything more than feeling you without any barrier. But I haven’t been tested ever since I ended up on the streets. The last time was like four or five months before that, in fact. You know, with everything I had going on trying not to end up homeless.” He can’t really help a bitter chuckle when he says that. “Anyway, I would feel better if we used a condom this time. Then, we can maybe get tested together and stop using them?”

Dean’s looking at him with a pleased smile and sparkling eyes, between amused and touched. “The man I love is a boy-scout. And I absolute love that.”

Kissing his grin off his face to shut Dean up is the only response Castiel can give him. Partly not to dignify Dean’s sass with a verbal reply, partly just because he can, and he wants to. Castiel knows he’ll always want to. Dean’s lips are something else.

They kiss for a few minutes, until the heat in Castiel’s groin starts flaring again. He needs to start prepping Dean _now_ , as he won’t be able to resist getting inside of him for much longer. But he doesn’t go far in his journey towards the bedside table before Dean attaches his mouth to Castiel’s neck, keeping a strong grip on his shoulders. Castiel can only groan for a moment and close his eyes, reminding himself that just pushing inside of Dean already _is not an option_.

“Dean, please, I need to get the lube-“

“No one’s”, little bite, “stopping”, kiss, “you.”

“It’s, oh god, difficult to focus. If. If. When. You. Do that.”

Dean relents and fixes him with a smirk. “OK. But _hurry_.”

With that he moves to the other side of the bed, puts an arm behind his head and starts stroking himself slowly with the other hand, keeping his legs slightly parted invitingly.

He’s the porniest of sights. And Castiel gets to fuck him. Better still, he _wants_ Castiel to fuck him.

He hurries with grabbing the lube and a condom and can’t even be bothered to be annoyed when he hears Dean’s chuckling. He’s _eager_ and has every right to be.

“OK, so, like I said I haven’t done this in a while. But you’ll tell me if you’re uncomfortable, yes?”

Dean pecks him and smiles brightly. “I will.”

Castiel lies on top of Dean again, kissing him as he pushes his hips down on Dean’s, a delicious mimicry of what they’ll be doing soon. Then he slides on his side next to Dean. This way, he can use his right hand to ease him open and his left arm to keep Dean’s head propped up, so he can kiss him through it and take notice of any little change in Dean’s expressions. He trusts Dean will communicate with him, but he wouldn’t mind to stop doing anything wrong the very second he even starts doing it.

He sits down for the time he needs to pour lube on his fingers, and then gets to work. He almost feels like he’s having an out-of-body experience, when he starts kissing Dean’s mouth and circling his hole at the same time. Dean hisses at the first contact and mumbles “cold” before bringing his hand to the side of his neck and use it to pull Castiel down into a kiss. Seems like Dean wants to be kissed as he’s being prepped too.

When his first finger pushes in and he can feel how Dean opens up and how absolutely _hot_ he is inside, Castiel can barely believe this is his life now. This is perfection, and they’ve barely started.

His tongue becomes more insistent inside of Dean’s mouth, fucking it with the same vigor he wishes he could use to fuck his ass, but which Castiel needs to withhold, for now.

As one finger becomes two and two three, most of their kisses turn into breathing each other’s air while their open mouths barely touch and their eyes stay locked.

They both whisper encouragements. “God, Dean, you’re perfect. Doing so good for me.” And “Yes, right there, Cas. Jesus, like that, more, please. More”

And when the blissful words “Cas, I’m ready” leave Dean’s mouth, Castiel almost feels like weeping in relief. He needs to be inside of him so badly.

Castiel plants a firm close-mouthed kiss on Dean’s lips as he slowly, carefully removes his fingers and pushes himself on his knees.

After grabbing the other pillow to place below Dean’s hips so he’s propped up a bit, Castiel grabs the condom and rolls it down with shaking fingers. He doesn’t even need to stroke himself he’s so hard. He pours more lube on his erection and spreads it around carefully. Hurting Dean is not conceivable.

Once he’s ready, he takes a deep breath and looks at Dean. Dean smiles and nods once, so Castiel gets between his legs, lines himself up and starts pushing in.

He can’t look away from the spectacular view of his cock being swallowed by Dean’s ass inch by inch. He’s pushing in slowly, steadily, guided by the pressure of Dean’s hands on his biceps. He slows down when it increases and keeps going when it decreases.

Until he’s, finally, completely sheathed inside of him. He lowers himself on Dean completely then, pecks his lips, and noses along his jaw as he waits for him to adjust.

“Does it hurt?”

“It, ehm, burns a little. I just need a minute, it’s-, you know, been a while.”

While still nuzzling Dean’s jaw, Castiel can’t stop himself from asking “How long is ‘a while’?”

Dean huffs a small laugh, “Why, Cas, you jealous?”

“Yes.”

Dean’s clearly shocked by his answer. Probably because most men would have played it cool. But Castiel has realized a lot of time ago that he’s not like most people, and that trying to be someone he’s not can only make him miserable, while at the same time still not being enough to make others happy. Add to this that Castiel has sworn to never again lie to this amazing man, who loves him and who he loves. Seeing the hurt look on his face when he confessed the lie about his name was enough for Castiel to decide, there and then, that he wouldn’t ever lie to Dean again. And he didn’t even love him back then, as incredibly fond of him as he already was, in spite of the still lingering fear that Dean might hurt him.

So, yes, Castiel is jealous. Very much so. Of any person who’s ever touched his man.

Dean hasn’t broken eye contact for even a moment, clearly trying to understand if Castiel is serious, wanting to chat while buried balls deep in his ass.

Dean has said he needs a minute, after all. They can very much spend that time getting to know each better, right? And satisfy Castiel’s need to know that Dean hasn’t been with anyone else after he became a part of his life. Please let it be so.

Castiel knows he’s always been the possessive kind. He does. And he knows he’s learnt to deal with it in a fairly healthy way, without ever flying off the handle. But his need to feel this man as his and his only has reached a whole new level. More than anything, he wants to be Dean’s for the rest of his life, and wants Dean to be his in return.

Having clearly reached the conclusion that, yes, Castiel is serious, Dean replies “Ehm, a few weeks before meeting you. I, well, I realized I was crushing on you the first time you ever slept here, and haven’t so much as looked the other way since.”

Castiel feels a surge of heat flare up through his entire body. This man has been his, has _chosen_ to be his, ever since they met. Castiel wants to cradle him tenderly in his arms just as much as he wants to fuck him so savagely he’ll have to assist him for the week he’s gonna need to be able to walk again. His dick has definitely twitched inside of Dean when he replied, and Castiel knows that Dean felt it. And liked it, as the coy smile he’s still showing seems to suggest.

There’ll be time for tender cradling.

Castiel’s gonna be the best care-giver in the week to come.

But first, he decides to take a page out of Dean’s book and make sure they’re clear on a very, very, very, _very_ important detail.

He pecks his man’s lips first of all, because he can and it’s been too long and he wants to confirm that, yes, that reply _has_ made him supremely happy. Then he fixes him with the most serious glance he can master and asks, “And do you plan to keep it that way?”

Again, Dean’s shocked first, and clearly doubtful and insecure then. “I, um, yes? I mean, I’m not one for open relationships, Cas. So if that’s what you’re thinking abo-“

Silencing him by thrusting his cock back a little and then pushing it forward inside the tight, warm, delicious channel of Dean’s ass is a little (‘A _lot_ ’) mean, Cas knows. But he’s got to erase Dean’s doubts before they even take full form. And the phrase ‘open relationships’ has made his possessive side roar in protest, and, well, a swift, decisive demonstration of just how much Dean belongs to him now, and to no one else, was needed.

The moan that leaves Dean’s glorious lips and the long, delectable expanse of his throat as a result of his throwing his head back make Cas understand Dean’s not about to complain.

He puts his lips on that throat, and kisses it lightly. Then he uses the tip of his tongue to lick it a bit, because he can now, and because he’s already addicted to the taste of the skin of his love. _His_ love. His teeth long to join the party, and so they do, biting the delicious flesh at their complete disposal oh so gently, and then not so gently, because this man is Castiel’s to mark now. And he knows that tomorrow’s Castiel is gonna be embarrassed as hell when Bobby will look at him, enquiring frown in place. But today’s Castiel couldn’t care less. Plus, working at the body shop, Castiel’s seen how some customers, and some of the mechanics too, look at Dean. So he very much suspects that, with the exception of his meeting with Dean’s dad that he’s really _not_ looking forward to, tomorrow’s Castiel will be pretty sated and proud, after all. Especially when he’ll see the disappointment on people’s faces when they realize Dean is officially taken.

Sucks to be them.

“You misunderstand, my love,” Castiel replies between one kiss and the next, one nibble and the next, while also starting a regular, slow rhythm with his hips that allows his cock to slide in and out of Dean’s body and enjoy how welcoming, in his heat and smoothness, it is. “I wasn’t suggesting we should have an open relationship.” Gosh, but it’s getting difficult to think and talk while Dean’s ass is so tight and so warm, and his legs are wrapping around Castiel’s hips more securely, as if Dean needs to make sure Castiel stays right where he is but he also needs to lure him even deeper inside of himself, while his hands are buried in Castiel’s hair and he’s releasing little moans as his breathing quickens. “On the contrary. I just wanna make sure you want to be only mine. Like I want you to be. Like I only want to be yours.”

“Yes! Yes! God, yes, yours. Only yours. Only mine.”

Those are the last coherent words they say. And Castiel’s okay with that. There’s still so much to talk about, but all the most important things have been clarified, and all that remains is sealing those promises with a final act.

So Castiel stops talking and stops thinking and, once again, goes back to feeling. Feeling the incredible heat of Dean’s body below him and around him. Feeling his chest rise and fall with his labored breathing, his legs and arms tightening around his body, his hands scratching his skull and his back, his mouth and teeth and tongue kissing, biting and licking any part of Castiel they can reach. The sounds he makes, the moans and groans and grunts and the little “oh” and “ah” leaving his mouth every now and then.

Castiel can’t help but increase his pace and the strength behind his thrusts, he’s too far gone, the sound of their bodies colliding and the sounds punched out of Dean are getting louder and louder, and he’s not gonna last, he should have masturbated way more often than he did, but he’s not sure that would have helped either, because being inside of Dean like this doesn’t compare to anything.

Feeling his orgasm approaching super rapidly he sneaks a hand between their bodies and starts stroking his lover. The sound Dean makes in reply to that is _beautiful_. He must be very close too.

A few thrusts later, Castiel empties himself in the condom, muffles his scream in Dean’s neck, and jerks the other man to completion as soon as his own breathing slows down a tiny bit. His cock is still inside Dean’s ass and it doesn’t take more than a handful of strokes before Dean’s coming too, without worrying about muffling his scream of pleasure in the slightest, so Castiel’s sensitive dick can still enjoy the unbelievable feeling of Dean clenching around him.

When he’s sure he’s milked every last drop out of Dean, Castiel slumps on him, trying not to crash him but honestly too boneless to even think about moving right now.

They’re both motionless, busy with catching their breath, for a few minutes.

Until the silence is broken by Dean’s chuckling. “I can’t believe I came this quickly with how much I have been jerking off in the shower lately.”

“Oh, yeah?” Castiel asks arching an eyebrow.

Dean’s light blush is adorable. “Yeah. I, um, I mean, having you around looking _like that,_ ”Castiel can’t help but laugh. “ _Shut up_ , Cas. You don’t know what you do to me, ok? You were wearing my clothes and being so cute while filling in that damned chore planner and winning over all my colleagues and my dad one by one, and it was hard, ok? I was falling harder and harder and I was _constantly_ horny. And I-“

“You?”

“I had to find a way to avoid doing or saying anything that could even remotely suggest sleeping with me was the price to pay to be here. I couldn’t have lived with myself if I did.”

“Never once.” Castiel cradles Dean’s face in his hands and ducks down to try and look into his eyes, but Dean’s resolutely keeping his gaze lowered. “Dean, look at me. Never once did you make me feel like that.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, love, I am.”

Dean’s relieved smile spreads on his face like the sun rising. He’s so beautiful. How did Castiel get so lucky?

Then his face turns serious, and Castiel knows Dean’s about to ask something he really wants but he’s not sure he should ask for.

“So, I know we kinda did everything backwards. Living together before getting together and all. And I totally understand if you feel like you need your independence and to find a place to stay. But, um, I mean, you could stay here. You know? Just, instead of being friends who share a place, we’d been boyfriends who live together. Unless you don’t think it’s too soo-“

Castiel _has_ to silence him with a kiss. His rambling boyfriend is working himself into an anxiety attack.

Over _nothing_.

“ _Of course_ I’m staying, Dean. I would defeat the whole Sith army on my own if that was the only way for me to stay here with you.”

Dean’s smile is _dazzling_. “I knew it was a _great_ idea to watch _Star Wars_ together.”


	11. Epilogue

“Popcorn, _Jimmy_?”

The swat on his ass he expected. The not so gentle nibble to his earlobe he didn’t though. And those hands sliding possessively around his waist to press him against a now very solid chest are making it difficult to focus on the words being whispered in his ear.

“What do I think about this little naming game of yours, love?”

“You don’t like it.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You realize that’s ridiculous, yes?”

“You are _mine_ , Dean. _Mine_. _My_ love. And I will not have you joking about being with anybody else, even if that somebody is just another version of me.”

Dean’s no longer the Dragon King in the house, clearly. Cas is a far more passionate hoarder. Having known what it means to have literally nothing, he’s now fiercely protective of what’s his. He doesn’t collect as many possessions as he can, like Dean used to do, no. He still has very few. But he protects those with all he has.

And there’s nothing and no one Cas possesses and protects more than Dean. Dean doesn’t even know what it means to be the big spoon anymore.

“Say it, Dean.”

“I’m yours, Cas.”

“Yes. You are.”

The kiss is as possessive as they go. Cas’s left hand still on his waist to keep him close, his right hand on the side of Dean’s neck to help him keep his face craned, while Cas’s teeth nib at Dean’s bottom lip. A clear request: open up to me, my love, let me get to what’s mine. And so Dean does. There’s no world in which Dean would deny Cas entrance. Cas’s tongue is thorough and insistent as it slides inside of Dean’s mouth, mapping it, cherishing it, owning it. Even through his own closed eyes Dean knows Cas’s are open. They often are. “I still can’t believe I get to kiss you whenever I want, my love. I need to see it,” Cas always says, making Dean’s heart skip a beat, or twelve, every time.

Sure enough, when Dean opens his eyes, Cas’s blue diamonds are unwaveringly trained on his face. “Now please don’t take too much with the popcorn. _Castiel_ can’t wait to eat some while snuggling on the couch with _his_ boyfriend.”

With that – and another swat to Dean’s ass that absolutely does not make his toes curl in anticipation of how possessive Cas will be in bed tonight – he’s gone, leaving Dean with a smile he couldn’t wipe away for all the money in the world. 

It’s moments like this when Dean can’t help but think that he couldn’t have possibly imagined, when he donated his blankets, that that one decision would change his future for real. And just like the article he read so many months ago now had said, getting rid of the old didn’t make his future feel lacking. It enriched it, allowing it to reach its full potential. He now has the one thing he didn’t have back then. A man who loves him and that he loves back unconditionally. 

A wonderful, bright, kind, strong man every other person in Dean’s life adores as well. His Dad was already smitten after the second day Cas started working at the body shop, but Dean had been honestly a bit worried about his mom’s and his siblings’ reactions to actually meeting Cas.

He shouldn’t have worried.

His mom spends entire afternoons over the weekend teaching Cas the family recipes, so “Dean won’t start whining too much when he wants to eat one of those dishes and you two can’t come here”. Both Dean and Cas know that’s just an excuse. She is using teaching Cas to cook as a bonding strategy, same as she did with Dean when he and Sam were adopted. More than once, Dean has been treated to the view of his mum’s brimming eyes while Cas was telling her something when they were in the kitchen together, as he himself was nursing a beer in the living room with Dad. Mom has always been the mama bear kind with her children, without ever being overbearing and depraving them of their agency, but she’s become more and more protective of Cas the more she got to know him and spend time with him. No one dares say anything even remotely unkind to Cas, not even as a joke, anymore. Not unless they want Ellen to tear them a new one. Dean loves that. He almost can’t believe how happy it makes him to know that the two parents who have protected him and his siblings ever since he was ten, now have Cas’s back too.

Dean’s sister was surprisingly the toughest one to break. She’s never been outright unkind or rude to Cas, but it took _weeks_ for her to give him even an inch. She spent that time not so subtly interrogating him and trying to see whether he would ever contradict himself, and everyone could see that she would watch his every move whenever they were in the same room. They ended up bonding over playing pool and darts of all things, when Cas commented once he had never done either thing because none of his ‘friends’ – yes, he had used air-quotes and all – would have ever considered those activities worthy of their time, but that he would have loved to learn. When his reply to Jo’s question whether he had any qualms about being taught by a girl was “Of course not. Even less so if the girl was you. Dean hasn’t stopped whining about having to wash your car for a month because you beat him at pool since it happened”, everyone knew the probation period was finally over. And if Ellen is Cas’s mama bear, Jo is his sister bear, ready to throw a dart right in the eye of anyone who so much as looks at “her third brother” sideways. 

Sammy and Cas hit it off like two peas in a pod. Like Dean had always known they would, if Sammy only gave him a chance. They are both huge nerds, and have bonded over their mutual love of history and all the things green, and Jess and Dean sometimes have to actively refrain from teasing Sammy for hanging on Cas’s lips now, when he used to be adamant he was the epitome of evil.

Jess had always had an open mind and that got turned into open arms when they first met. Ever since then, Dean has found himself pouting one time or two when Jess told him she would go shopping for clothes with Cas instead of going with Dean, as usual. He understood spending time together was essential for them to get to know each other. But couldn’t they, like, go on a coffee date? Or a _tea_ date, since they were both huge fans of that stuff? Did it have to be shopping for clothes?? Dean was the perfect partner for that: objective yet always nice about it. Dean didn’t hold a grudge, or played hard to get, when she next asked him to help her buy some new shoes. Uh uh. In spite of her being a _traitor_ , he still bought her a white gold bracelet with a charm representing two little figures, a boy and a girl, holding hands for her birthday. She cried when he explained they weren’t meant to represent her and Sammy, but her and Dean. “I mean, a brother and a sister can hold hands, right?”

As for Charlie, the only reason why Dean isn’t madly jealous of her relationship with Cas is that they are both gayer than Bert and Ernie. They bonded over… everything. Their love of literature, to start with. She roped him into LARP in no time and Dean got to see Cas wearing the pink princess dress he himself had meticulously chosen. His enthusiasm in choosing it had totally given him away and he had to confess his naughty thoughts to his boyfriend. Which made for a _very_ interesting night, when Cas proceeded to fuck him from behind while still wearing it at the end of the LARPing day. In exchange for playing the role of Charlie’s royal cousin, however, Cas asked her to teach him how to knit. That earned him one of the biggest smiles Dean has _ever_ seen appearing on Charlie’s face, and she is the definition of a professional smiler. “See?!” she had squeaked while punching Dean on his left bicep. “I told you that knitting course would come in handy one day!”. He had only smiled and nodded in reply, but his brain jumped at the chance to claim ‘She has no idea how _true_ that is’. Their knitting evenings have quickly turned into Charlie being on a mission to educate Cas on TV series (“You’ve never seen _Firefly_???? That shall not be allowed in my realm!”), while she has graciously accepted to leave movies to Dean, “since the dude’s as sappy as they go and needs his romantic date nights to satisfy his mushy side”.

Dean and Cas have also turned Dean’s backyard into a garden. Dean had immediately said yes when Cas asked because, well, he’s still to learn how to say no to his boyfriend. But also because the idea of doing something with Cas that is only theirs was simply too tempting to resist. However, he hadn’t considered that, once grown, the vegetables need to be _eaten_. So Dean Michael Winchester Singer is now a regular veggie eater. In exchange for regular rimjobs from his smoldering hot boyfriend, whose tongue is _long_ and _talented_ and _wicked_.

Needless to say, every time Dean and Cas bring Sammy and Jess some of the vegetables they’ve grown, and Cas tells them even Dean has eaten them, Sammy falls in love him a little more, so much so Dean and Jess can’t help themselves on those occasions and totally make fun of him for how much he hated Cas at first. “I didn’t _hate_ him, I was worried!”

His mom, on the other hand, is so proud of their gardening skills that she’s found a billion and one recipes to try with Cas where they can use their home-grown vegetables, and Dean is so happy to see them both so happy he doesn’t even need to be promised to be rimmed once home to eat them.

So Dean’s future, which is now his present, is anything but lacking. On the contrary, it’s plentiful, rich, and bright. 

Dean Michael Winchester Singer is a lucky, lucky man. 

His smile comes back, so wide his face actually hurts a bit, when he goes to the living room and takes in the scene in front of him. 

Cas – his best friend, his boyfriend, the love of his life – is on the couch, under the blanket he always uses to wrap himself up in while watching TV in the evenings. Another blanket Dean has embroidered, sewed and knitted himself. It shows a dog face just as ugly as the other one, but Dean has added the words ‘welcome home’ under it this time. 

Cas shed a few tears when Dean gave it to him and made no secret, from that day on, that that blanket had automatically become the second most prized possession in his hoard, after Dean. 

The third one remains the old blanket, the one that got them together, that they still keep, for sentimental reasons. 

They very much stand by the rule of not keeping what they don’t use and can donate – including their time, since they now both volunteer with an association that brings homeless people food and drinks at night, with the garden-fresh veggies the Winchester Singer family are unable to eat being used for some of those dishes too. 

But every rule needs its exception, right? 

In Cas and Dean’s life, that exception comes in the form of an old, ugly blanket that is placed on a stool in a corner of their bedroom, as a constant reminder of how lucky they got to find each other like they did, and of all the care, devotion, trust and effort that kind of luck and a love like theirs deserve in return.


End file.
